The Outsider
by AwkwardDictator
Summary: Recluse, hermit, introvert, floater, interloper, outcast, lone wolf. She's an outsider. He's an insider. She's shy. He's charismatic. She's content. He was, too. She doesn't exactly need him. He can't survive without her. Canon.
1. Chapter 1

"Ah, _hell_ no."

Somehow, I manage to not crash into the doorframe as I jog into school, juggling a million items in my hands as the bell rings shrilly, signaling that I'm late. Again.

I'm cursing as I reach my locker, shoving half my books and my sports bag into the rather cramped space. My saxophone case bangs into my knee and I swear crudely. This has not been my morning. At all.

But I'm used to it. I, Kimberley Faith Connweller, might just be the biggest loser on the planet. A really pathetic loser at that.

But the good thing is that I don't mind in the slightest. In fact, I _made_ myself this way. Living on the edge, away from the spotlight of high school drama and ridiculous adolescent occurrences, is exactly where I enjoy being and plan to stay. Plus, I have friends. Good friends, even. I need nothing else.

The moment I step into first period, AP Biology, it's as though I'm a flame and my classmates' eyes are moths. In true Kim style, I blush furiously, despising the stares and attention.

The teacher doesn't broadcast my arrival, which I'm thankful for, and so I sidle to the back where my desk is, my saxophone case, the one I didn't have time to drop off in the morning, repeatedly colliding with my kneecap. Wincing, I take a seat next to Christine. She sends me a curious glance and I shoot a reassuring smile back.

As soon as class ends, she's jumping on me.

"What the hell? Why were you so late? I was almost sure you were gonna skip school, Chicken."

For the record, the nickname has nothing to do with my cowardly nature, all though I could argue and say that I'm not exactly the bravest person around. But it has everything to do with my initials; _KFC_. Christine came up with the nickname when we were in sixth grade and thought it was super clever, so it stuck. Sometimes I wish it hadn't, but then, in the end, I realize I don't really care.

"I wish," I sigh, stuffing my spiral into my backpack and throwing it over my shoulder. "I couldn't carry all my shit on my bike, which is why I had to walk, or to be precise, _jog_ to school carrying a million things." We leave the classroom together.

She looks at me dubiously. "You could have asked for a ride."

I adjust the straps of my backpack, dodging a student that barrels past me. "I don't like to be a bother," I murmur.

"_Kim._ You know I hate that," she snaps and I know she's referring to my habit of not accepting or asking for favors from anyone, even though, it's safe to say, Chris is my best friend and I'm guessing best friends do those thins for each other.

I roll my eyes. "It's _fine_. Next time I'm late, I'll just hijack a car off the road."

She snorts. "I didn't think Grand Theft Auto was your style."

I smirk. "It's always the quiet ones."

She smiles, and it's the first genuine one I've seen all morning. "Honestly, I thought you were skipping first period to creep on what's-his-face."

A small smile tugs at my lips and if she notices, she doesn't comment.

Someone might wonder why I'm smiling at the idea of being a first-class stalker. Well, I've already embraced that I'm a little kooky. I live in a world in which I observe. Technically, I'm creeping on everyone. I hear private conversations everyday and people don't even know it. I'm practically invisible. Slinking from place to place like some kind of sad, depressing version of a ninja. It just so happens that I creep on a certain someone a tiny, tiny bit more than the rest.

Ok. So it's more than a tiny bit. It's a lot.

I'M JUST SO IN LOVE WITH HIM, DAMNIT.

Alright, so I'm not in love with him; let's just clear that up. I'm just a girl…with a crush. A huge, idol-worshiping type of crush.

On Jared Cameron.

He probably doesn't know who I am. I think the extent to which we have spoken is to borrow a pencil or a sheet of paper or, if I'm lucky, he might ask me what the homework assignment he missed was.

He's _that_ boy. You know. The one who people flock to, the one who is both the class clown and Mr. Popular. That boy whose cute, boyish features, hearty laughter, and fun demeanor steal their way into many a girl's heart. Yeah. I'm not the only junior around who has been affected by the Jared charm.

It's cool, though. I'm not deranged, nor am I delusional. I know exactly where I stand on the social ladder that is high school and I know what to expect; because I am definitely not _that_ girl.

I've been told I'm pretty. But most people have. In my opinion, I'm plain; broad nose and lips, small eyes, wide face. Of course, everyone has their redeeming qualities. But which teenager talks about those?

"Hey, are you dropping your sax off now?" Christine asks, breaking me out of my thoughts. I blink at her. "You can't carry it around all day."

I cock a brow. "I have band next period anyway. I'll just leave it there once I'm done."

She sighs. "Alright. Hey do you have tennis practice after school today?"

I bite my lip and nod and she glares at me.

"And how the hell are you getting there?"

"See, there are these things…They're called legs…"

"_Hilarious_. I'll drop you off."

"Really?" I bite my lip again. "You don't have to do that, Chrissy."

"I want to, _Kimmy_," she retorts and I make a face. "See you at lunch, sweets."

We part ways and I speed walk my way to band to avoid the chance of me having to stop and talk to an acquaintance or make a fool out of myself in front of some popular douchebag.

* * *

By the time band, and my third and fourth periods, AP English III and Pre-AP Spanish III, are over, I'm already drowning in homework. I make me way to lunch, carefully scanning the lunch room for my group. Unlike most of the students at our school, we are nomads, so we float from table to table, disrupting the peaceful hierarchy that is enforced by high school cliques. My friends are much less shy than me and have no trouble being smug-cafeteria-seat-stealers but I remain the quiet one who just follows their directions even if it does cause a few feuds between our group and others over the years.

I find them, being loud and creating a ruckus, as always, at the table usually occupied by the volleyball team. I sink into a seat on Mary's right and return the grin she sends me. It's so _easy_ with them. I've been told that I'm guarded and antisocial and it's all true. But with my friends, it's as easy as breathing. They're loudly debating the pros and cons of East Coast vs. West Coast for college and I smile to myself as I unwrap my sandwich.

Opposites really do attract, especially in the case of my friendships with these amazing girls.

"No, no, and fuck no," Linda screeches flipping her long black hair over a shoulder. She's glaring daggers at Chris. "Why would you want to stay somewhere where the sky is perpetually the color of dried bird poop? Think about bustling streets and sprawling cities!"

"Seattle _is_ a sprawling city, you shit," Chris replies, irritated.

"Think Boston. And _New York City_!" Linda practically crows and Chris just looks at her, disgusted.

"Typical. You and Kim are going to run off to the East Coast and leave Mary and I behind, aren't you?"

Linda shoots me a bright grin. "We're going to have tons more fun than they are, aren't we, Kim?"

I wink at her playfully, my mouth stuffed with PB&J. It's true. I've had a plan to attend Brown University since I first started high school. My counselor said I was a shoo-in, what with my above average grades and extra-curriculars, and I certainly hoped so; I couldn't even imagine going anywhere else, what with all the time I spent researching and gazing dreamily at the Brown site page.

Suddenly, out of my peripheral vision, I see Linda nudge Chris roughly in her ribs.

"_OW!_ What the-"

"_Look!_ Kim's little crush is heading this way!"

My eyes widen and I choke on my sandwich. My face turns red as I see all three of my soon to be ex-friends turn in their seats, smiling wickedly.

"_Hi, Jared_!" they sing-song, half-chortling, and it takes all my strength not to run from the room like a frightened rabbit.

Instead, I duck my head under the lunch table, under the pretense that I'm searching through my bag.

"Hello, ladies," I hear _him_ say from above me, the carefree grin evident in his voice, and my friends giggle. I watch his feet take him across the lunchroom and I only emerge, red-faced and frowning, when I'm sure the coast is clear. My friends wait for me with exasperated expressions.

"What the fuck, Kim?" Linda immediately begins, her brows creased. "What's the point of a crush if you won't act on it?"

"You should talk to him," Mary says, nudging me. She's the only one in the group who is even the slightest bit sympathetic towards my unhealthy crush on Jared.

Chris rolls her eyes, tucking her bob beneath her ear. It looks great on her; she had dragged me to the salon a few weeks ago and we had both gotten well overdue haircuts; so now, hers was a chic chin-length cut and mine reached just past my shoulders in soft, layered waves, adding volume to my thin hair. "Kim wouldn't talk to Jared even if he was the last person alive on the planet."

I stare down at my sandwich. She doesn't mean it to hurt me. She knows me better than anyone and she's completely right. I _wouldn't_. I'm much too comfortable observing from the sidelines. I don't like him enough to act on it and I don't feel like dropping it either. It serves as a distraction. Makes me feel like a _girl_. Gives me something to daydream about when everything else in my life feels dull.

This is just a typical interaction with Jared Cameron. If he ever comes close enough to penetrating my self-made bubble, I hide. This is the way it has been for the last three years, the time that I have housed this attraction.

I shrug at them. "Just because you have a crush on Brad Pitt doesn't mean you go stalk him on Hollywood Boulevard and convince him to date you, Linda. It's the same concept."

Linda's brows furrow. "You're comparing _Brad Pitt_ to _Jared Cameron_?"

I snap my eyes to hers. "Our tastes differ."

"Clearly," she agrees, wrinkling her pretty little nose in distaste. "There's a difference between a movie star and a normal high school boy, Kim."

I chew my sandwich thoughtfully. "He's the star in the movie that's my life," I reply with a grin. Mary laughs softly beside me, her dark curls shaking.

"Oh, God," Chris says, her eyes turned upward to the heavens. "You putting the guy on a pedestal like this is going to come back and bite you in the ass someday."

I smile.

I don't have a single doubt that it won't.

My bubble will never be breached.

* * *

History is my worst class.

It's the only class I'm taking that isn't Pre-AP or AP, with the exception of Band. It's the only class I have with Jared Cameron.

And _no_. It's not because of Jared that I suck at history. It's because of him that I _enjoy_ history class.

I've had History with Jared Cameron since ninth grade. Since I first started crushing on him. In fact, History class might be the reason I started crushing on him.

I have this tendency. A tendency to doze off slash daydream when I'm being forced to listen to something I dislike. Ninth grade, Pre-AP World Geography. The only advanced History class I ever took. The only advanced History class _Jared_ ever took.

I started watching him. It wasn't creepy. Maybe. My eyes would just slide over to his frame and instead of paying attention to the Gross Domestic Product of Somalia, I'd be memorizing the wiry muscles of Jared's back. It was nice. Simple. Much, _much_ better than History.

I'd pay attention to the way he interacted with his friends. He was funny. He was charming. He was...nice enough, I suppose, but I'm not the nicest person around, so I can't judge that. He was also really, really cute.

I sat behind him. Always. I could watch him without fear of being caught and he never turned around and saw me, distracted, constantly, by his world of friends, sports, and whatever else popular people do. Parties? Booze? Drugs? I'd like to think he's above the last one, but who knows?

Now, it's U.S. History. I still suck. And he's still in my class, sucking with me.

...that sounds dirty.

But I digress.

Oh, and the best and worst part? I sit next to him now. Yes. No more 'back memorizing'. Only feet. And jean-clad thighs. And forearms, if I'm lucky.

The one-sided tension between us is volatile. Sometimes, when I'm not listening to the teacher, which is often, and I concentrate on the boy beside me, I can hear his low mutterings and the shifting of his body as he breathes. I can _feel_ it, like the freak I am.

He's the epitome of a high school boy. As soon as class is over, he will propel himself out of his seat, chatting in loud voices with his other boisterous friends. I will slowly pack my bag, under the table, allowing myself the most time to bask in his presence without being seen. They will laugh and horseplay for a while and careen out of the room. I will follow afterwards, slow and quiet, pack my Jared-centered daydreams away for my diary and head to AP Computer Science.

Today, as I enter the history classroom, I already know that something is different.

And of course. _Jared_ is here. Jared, who, usually, never makes it class on time because I always pass him in the hallway as he chats with his friends before class.

But he's here. And his head is on his desk, laying over his folded arms. His shoulders are slouched, his whole posture looks as though he got ran over by a car a few times.

I carefully slide into the desk beside his. He doesn't move but I hear him sigh heavily into his arms. We are the only ones in the classroom. I take a moment to notice how sickly he appears, from what I can see of his face and skin. He's only a few inches taller than me, since I'm already rather tall for a girl, but he looks somehow _smaller_ today. His longish hair is pushed behind an ear and a part of me wants to reach out and touch the dark strands.

Of course, I push that part down and turn to the front of the class, taking out my spiral for class and taking my time getting my writing utensils out of my pencil bag.

Some of his friends walk in. I know most of their names but I know they don't know mine. It's fine, though. I chose this life and I live it.

They jostle his shoulder and playfully kick him under the table until he looks up. Their mischievous expressions drop from their faces, instantly.

He must look bad, I think, but I don't turn around. I never do.

Class begins, and I don't listen. My History teacher doesn't usually call on people during class. She drones on and on instead, and that's completely alright with me.

When it comes time for a pop quiz, I slide my journal away, into my backpack. I cast a glance through my periphery at the boy beside me, and see him patting down his pockets, a bit frantic. I fight back a smile. It's so like Jared to not bring a writing utensil to class.

I suddenly worry. Should I give him one of my own? I'm practically the stationary goddess. If I give him my own pencil, he'll thank me, because nice kids do that.

He'll also see me. This whole time, I've managed to skate by unnoticed. Contrary to the belief of my friends, I don't want to ride off into the magical sunset with Prince Jared Cameron. I enjoy what I have; this watching, this worshiping- as though he were my own celebrity and I, his paparazzi, without the camera, of course. That would be weird. Or...weirder.

But then again, so what if he sees me? He'll go back to ignoring me, of course. I'm nothing spectacular. It doesn't take one good look at me to fall in love. He'll thank me and a thanks from _Jared Cameron_ might just make my day.

I unzip my pencil bag and remove a number two from the recesses, holding it up with every intention of giving it to the boy beside me-

"Here, Jared."

I look up. Alison Menota holds out a shiny mechanical pencil that matches her shiny grin. I watch as Jared returns the grin, murmuring a thanks, and accepting the pencil from within her grasp. They smile at each other for a beat longer than necessary.

I look away and shake my head, a small smile playing on my lips.

This is my life. I chose it...and now I live it.

By the time I make it to my last class of the day, AP Calculus, I've forgotten.

* * *

I'm stuffing my tennis bag and my backpack into Chris' back seat after school. I shove my saxophone in with the rest and then lean against her car door, panting.

Christ. I think I pulled something lugging all that shit out here.

"Hey, you ready to-_what the_-" Chris stops in her tracks, eyes wide, dropping the car keys she had been tossing up and down.

For a moment, I think she is referring to my disheveled state. I stand up straighter, then notice that her eyes are looking past me, behind me.

I turn.

Jared Cameron is running. Not just running. He's practically _sprinting_. His whole frame, his lean, wiry frame is vibrating like crazy. I gape at him.

He's grown. I hadn't noticed it before but I can't believe I didn't because he's so obviously taller it's like a slap in the face. He looks sort of awkward and gangly, like someone had stretched him out in a short period of time and left him to grow into his new height.

He pauses, looking around, wildly, for a second before making a mad dash into the woods.

"Uh..." I turn back around to meet Chris' bewildered gaze.

"What the fuck?" she grunts, echoing my thoughts.

"Maybe he just...really had to go. That would explain the shaking..."

Chris stares at me like I've grown another head. "There are bathrooms in the school, Chicken."

Ah, right. "Maybe he's a germaphobe."

"So he goes to pee in the _forest_? With the dirty leaves and dead animals?" Chris snorts.

I frown. "That was really weird," I admit. I know for a fact that I'm going to forget, or at least, set aside, this incident and go back to my Jared-worshiping and so I shrug. "Let's go, yeah? Coach Narez will seriously murder me and then dance on my grave if I'm late."

Chris grins. "Alright."

So, as with all things Jared Cameron related, I put in my pocket and save it for my later perusal.


	2. Chapter 2

I love math. It's easily my favorite subject and I just _get_ numbers.

Unfortunately, my brother likes to milk that for all it's worth.

"Number five, Kimmy!" he shrieks and I wince, resisting the urge to stick cotton in my ears…or in his mouth.

"Less screaming, more writing, Kevin," I scold, pushing _his_ homework that he has unceremoniously shoved in my face back towards his side of the table.

Kevin is in second grade. Although we have a huge age gap between us, one of nine years, I'm prone to treat him like an equal. He's a smart kid and sometimes I'm sad that mom isn't around enough to coddle him. I don't coddle. I just…don't.

Dad passed away a few years ago. He worked in a firm in Seattle as an accountant and was driving home to La Push when…he got into a car accident.

Our family's never been the same, since.

But for Kevin, this is all he knows. He knows of a father who died soon after he was born. He knows of a mother who needs two jobs to keep the family afloat and doesn't have much time to be with her kids. He knows of a sister who packs his lunches and helps him with his homework. He is fine. He is blissful.

I'm fine too. I never saw much of dad, just as I never see much of mom anymore. As much as dad's death hurt me, mom's disappearance from my life hurts even more; but I can't possibly tell her, especially when I know she's doing it for _me_, for _Kevin_, so that we can go to college and have a brighter future.

Kevin returns to his homework, kicking his legs dangerously close to mine under the table as he works. This is our ritual. I pick him up from La Push Elementary and cart him home, feed him some grub, and proceed to help him with his homework and try to finish some of mine simultaneously until mom returns from her job as a decorator at a small business. She cooks us dinner and, if it's a weekday, leaves for her second job as a bartender somewhere in Port Angeles. If it's the weekend, she stays, using this time to catch up with us.

It's Saturday evening and I've finally convinced Kev to finish his schoolwork so that he doesn't have to worry about it on a Sunday. I've made plans with the girls for tonight so I'm eager to finish my own. I answer my last history problem, finishing with a flourish, before sighing and closing my textbook.

History. Makes me think of Jared. Who has been _gone_. Like, _poof_, disappeared.

Ever since Chris and I saw him hightailing it out of the school, an event that, apparently, we weren't the only ones who were an audience to, he's been absent. Like, completely. It's been a whopping two weeks. I mean, I'd be worried if half the school wasn't already worried for him in my stead. To be honest, I'm sort of sick of hearing his name crop up in the hallways, accompanied by scandalous rumors.

Apparently there's another boy who has been gone as well. Namely, a Paul Lahote. He's an asshole; there's truly not another word for it. He's one of those bad boy types, the ones whose glare can shut up an entire room and whose bark can send a fleet of students scattering.

Yeah. He's scary.

Some people are starting to wonder whether their disappearances are related. I want to scoff, but what do I know? I mean, yes, it's a bit absurd that Jared, resident cool kid, and Paul, resident evil kid, could be disappearing for the same reasons. They don't run in the same circles. Unless it involved somehow managing to catch the same illness…that somehow only struck the two of them. Or if they both have mono. From…kissing the same girl…? Who happens to not go to La Push High because no one else has been gone for two weeks. Or maybe they got mono from…_kissing each other_…?

Alright. I'm officially out of ideas. And mentally scarred. _Shudder._

Kevin finishes his homework and I do too, rushing through the last of my math problems. It's almost eight o'clock when mom pulls up, looking harried and tired as usual.

"Kim," she murmurs, kissing my cheek as soon as she steps through the door. She shrugs off her coat. "Did you have a good day, sweetheart?"

"Yeah," I shrug, taking the coat from her and moving to hang it in the shoe closet. "I made some lasagna for Kevin and I because I wasn't sure when you'd be back."

She gives me a thankful smile. It's not a big deal, really. It's the only thing I know how to cook. I prefer the structure and rigidity of baking. Less chances of messing up.

Kevin comes barreling towards mom and she picks him up, transforming from tired to joyous in a manner of seconds. I smile, watching their interaction before reminding mom that today's my day with the girls. She looks a little disappointed that I won't be there to play robots with her and Kevin, but I know she'll be fine. She needs some alone time with Kevin anyway.

I wave as I step out the door and into the chilly night, pulling my dark blue hoodie tighter around my frame.

* * *

We're huddled together around a miniature version of a campfire. The girls are shoving popcorn and candy into each other's mouths and I watch, smiling, as I take a sip of my beer. It's a chilly day, since it's the middle of February, and I pull my hoodie shut, a shiver passing through me.

It's a tradition; every other weekend, we gather in the forest, finding new areas where we can set up camp and sneaking six packs of beer that Mary's older brother is kind enough to purchase for us.

I've never been _drunk_. I don't like the idea of not being in control of my actions and decisions; the vulnerability. But I do enjoy a slight buzz. Peer pressure at its finest, really.

Linda chugs down her beer, wiping a hand over her mouth before sending me the stink eye; she's a bit of an aggressive drunk. "Being boring again, Kim?"

She's referring to my dislike of all things drunken. I shrug and take another sip, waving my bottle at her as though I'm the life of the party. "Satisfied?"

Mary snorts and knocks into my shoulder, the force of her tipsy action causing some beer from her bottle to slosh onto my jeans. I crinkle my nose at her.

"Not nearly," Linda sneers before she brightens. "I heard something that you might enjoy."

"Did you?" I question, bored, wiping at the stain in irritation. If my mom sees this shit…

"Jared's returning soon."

I pause in my ministration and my eyes rise up to meet hers. "Um."

"How do you know that?" Chris blinks blearily. Her whole frame is tilting precariously. She seems to have drunk more than the rest of us. The thought annoys me; now I'll have to drop her home.

"My mom heard it from Mr. Lahote. You know, Paul's dad."

So their disappearances _are_ related. Huh. The thought is strange.

I can tell my friends are a bit confused by this information as well. All though, that might be the alcohol talking.

Mary furrows her brows. "But…they're not friends. I've never seen them talk in my life. Paul and Jared, I mean. Not Jared and Paul's dad. Obviously that wouldn't happen. I mean, unless there are circumstances we don't know about..." I pat her arm in silent reassurance that we've understood what she meant so she doesn't need to continue rambling. She grins at me.

"Yeah, apparently they were both sick…they went to some party and caught the same bug."

"Wait…_what_? Paul attends parties?" Chris is incredulous. "That too, parties thrown by _Jared's_ friends?"

"Maybe it's just the opposite," I pipe up, trying to inject humor into the situation. "Maybe Jared wanted to try setting houses on fire for a change."

The girls snort and we fall silent. The forest is silent around us.

And then it's not.

A fierce, startling loud howl cuts through the quiet and we are all suddenly scrambling to our feet.

Though the action of rising might not require much energy, we are all breathing deeply in exertion. The cold air gives us glimpses of our exhales, small puffs of wintry air emitted from our mouths.

"What…_the fuck_…was that," Mary deadpans and we survey our surroundings. A twig snaps somewhere nearby and Linda emits a squeak; we're spurred into action.

"Do you think it's the police-"

"A watchdog maybe-"

"Fuck…the narcotics?"

"We're not doing _drugs_, you shit-"

We shove our empty bottles of beer into Mary's knapsack where they'll be recycled upon our return home. I pour the rest of mine out into the grass and add it to the pile. My heartbeat is _thud-thudding_ against my ribcage.

That was _no_ watchdog.

"Guys," I begin slowly and they turn to me. "Do you think…that was a wild animal?"

They stare at me for a beat before grabbing flashlights and trash off the ground.

"It doesn't matter," Chris dismisses, and she looks surprisingly sober, her expression grave in the flickering campfire light. "We're leaving." She stomps out our source of light and I watch as the embers dim and fizzle out beneath her sneakers.

Linda links her arm through mine and Chris walks on my other side. Mary is on her left. We shine a light in our path and begin our trek back.

"Fuck," Mary hisses. "I stepped in an ant pile."

"Nobody gives a flying fuck," Linda whispers back waspishly. I roll my eyes and grab the flashlight from her the collision of our hands causing it to veer in a direction far to my left.

I stop. The girls stop too, their knees knocking together like startled colts'.

"Kim? What-"

Slowly, I turn the flashlight back to my left, my hand shaking slightly.

A furry tail whips out of sight.

We scream.

Linda is holding my arm in a vice-like grip and Chris is practically climbing onto my shoulder, the crown of her head shuddering against my chin. I can't even move, not because of their hands but because _what the fuck was that an animal or something-_

"You shouldn't be here."

We scream again, Mary clawing at my back in fright, and my flashlight snaps to the right.

There's a man.

It's Sam Uley.

"It isn't safe in the woods this time of night. I suggest the four of you return home immediately."

I can feel the girls trembling beside me.

"What-what are you doing here?" I ask and mentally slap myself. He's the size of a bear; he could be in the single most dangerous place in the world and probably come out alive. _We_, on the other hand, have no business wandering the woods. I frown sheepishly up at him.

A small smile twitches at his lips. He really is a handsome motherfucker. "I think _I_ should be the one asking _you_ that."

"There was an animal!" Linda shrieks suddenly, awakening from her stupor and pointing in the general direction of the Mysterious Furry Tail. "It-it went that way!"

Sam furrows his brows and looks in the direction of the MFT. "Thank you... I'll be sure to take care of it." He returns his penetrating gaze to us. "Meanwhile, you four should be off now."

"What, are you a hunter or something?" Mary blurts.

He smiles gently, his eyes twinkling with something unknown. "Something like that."

"It might be a bear or something," Linda spits out and we all turn to look at her. It was quite obviously not a bear. A fox, maybe, with a tail that size… "You know, like the one that attacked Emil-" Mary knocks her elbow into Linda's ribs and Linda takes the hint, shutting up.

I feel like slapping Linda on the back of the head. I watch as Sam's expression turns grave and morose. _God,_ thanks, Linda, you fucking gossip queen.

It's a widely known tale, the story of Emily, Sam's fiancée being attacked by a wild bear. The scars that now permanently reside upon her features. There's something…terribly unnerving about the tale and I almost feel as though I'm missing a vital part. But the most important thing is that she didn't deserve it. And it probably hurts Sam more than we could ever know.

Sam sighs, his features drawn and somehow, aged, just in the last few seconds. "I promise you; you don't have to worry. I'll look into it." He hurries us out of the forest and back on the path and we are only too glad to leave.

We trek faster than we thought possible, finally breathing when we reach the road, but for some reason, I can't get Sam's unfathomable expression out of my head. As I say goodbye to the girls at our customary fork in the road, I can't help but wonder if there's something going on that none of us know.

The idea is strange and so far from my usual train of thought that I pick up my pace and practically jog home. No use in thinking like that when there isn't even moonlight to protect me from the scary creatures of the night.

* * *

By the time I reach my room, my window gives me a view of La Push completely blanketed in silky night. I settle at my desk and open my history spiral for a last minute review of my notes.

I flip through the pages, studiously ignoring doodles and markings that I've artistically drawn in an attempt to alleviate boredom, until I reach one that catches my attention in its flamboyant display.

Mrs. Jared Cameron. Surrounded by hearts and stars and squigglies. I smirk down at it.

It's a nice dream. Jared Cameron and I. Pretty and plain.

I'm not stupid. I tell myself this often. I'm clever. I get it.

I've placed myself in a box. A box that has an opening. I just don't want to get out of it.

I rub my thumb over my doodles before rolling my eyes. People like Alison Menota are much better suited for the position of Mrs. Jared Cameron. Perhaps I'll slip the doodle into her bag sometime this week. Imagine the _teasing_. She's not the nicest girl; I'm sure I'll be doing someone a favor.

With this thought, I shut my spiral and shut out the world, climbing into my forest green twin bed, slightly exhausted. I'll work on History tomorrow.

I'm asleep before the crickets begin chirping.

* * *

"What are you talking about, Linda?"

I'm tiredly shoving spoonfuls of cheerios into my mouth as Linda blabbers on. I wait until she pauses for breath before interrupting her.

"Wait, wait- slow down. I didn't hear a single word you just said."

"God, Kim. You are _so_ not a morning person."

Don't I know it. I stab ungratefully at my cereal and run my fingers through tangled dark locks. "Just get on with it, Brown."

"I saw them, you idiot," she tells me in exasperation.

"Who?"

"_Jared Cameron and Paul Lahote_," she emphasizes and my cereal regurgitates itself back onto the table in a spray of milk and cheerios.

"What? Where?" I ask, making a mad dash to the kitchen to retrieve a paper towel. _Sheesh,_ what a mess. Jesus.

"At the grocery store."

I pause in my cleaning to consider. I don't know what I had been expecting but this isn't it. "That seems relatively…tame."

"Yeah, but the scandalous part is what they look like now. There is no way in hell they aren't taking steroids," she says gleefully.

"Huh?" I retort intelligently.

"They're freaking _huge_."

I blink. The idea seems absurd to me. "What do you mean…huge?"

"I mean large, giant, engorged-"

"Yeah, I get it," I snap. "And engorged? _Really_?"

"I wonder if their dicks have grown along with their muscles," Linda snickers.

Suddenly, I feel sick. No. No, this just won't do. My innocent, childish crush is being tainted. Jared? Huge? The picture does not seem to fit in my head and I feel desperately sad. Something occurs to me, however, distracting me from the slightly morose thoughts.

"Wait…doesn't your package get smaller when you take steroids?" I question suddenly, wiping away the last of the cereal residue. I can't believe I'm even talking about this. I blush. What the actual hell.

"You know what? I don't care if their dicks are the size of pins. Those _fingers_. Gah! Let me just say that those boys can have a go at me anytime they want-"

I tune "Slutty Linda" out, trying to conjure up the strange mental image of a huge Jared. I mean, yes. He had always been tall. And fit. But definitely gangly. And a bit awkward.

_Boyish,_ Chris would say with a condescending huff. As in not yet a man.

_Adorable,_ I might retort. Because that's what he had been to me. A cute, adorable specimen of a boy.

But steroids? That doesn't seem right. Something just…doesn't add up.

"Are you sure you aren't exaggerating, Linds?" I ask cautiously. "Also, I don't really think Jared's the steroid type. Er…I don't really know about Paul, but…"

I honestly don't think Paul's the type either. I mean, yes he's scary as fuck, and being on the outside as I most often am _does_ tend to make me throw assumptions around quite often, but he seems too…I don't know…prideful. Too prideful to do steroids, anyway.

"Oh, come on, Kim. How could they grow to the size of large bears in two weeks without some sort of…drug or treatment?" Linda asks skeptically.

How, indeed?

* * *

The bell rings shrilly and I lean against the locker besides Chris', fiddling nervously with the strap of my backpack.

Chris finally looks at me, making a face. "Ok, what's gotten into you?"

"Nothing at all, seeing as I'm a virgin," I joke. When she looks unimpressed, I sigh. "I just...God, I really just don't want to see huge Jared. It'll ruin my image of him."

All morning, it's all I've heard. _OMG, Jared and Paul are huge. _Then,_ Wow, I wonder what their secret is...and why they look so angry. _And also,_ What kind of drugs are those crazy kids taking and can I have some?_

It's disconcerting and irritating. Apparently, along with being supposed steroid buddies, they are also now friends, if the group gossiping loudly about how they saw Paul and Jared exiting the school together during lunch break is to be trusted.

I haven't seen him yet. I really, really don't want to. _God,_ I just know. He's going to be scary. _Different._ I don't like different.

It's not that I don't like the idea of a large man. Au contraire. I appreciate a fit male specimen like any other teenage girl. But...Jared? Sweet, lanky, crush-worthy Jared? And that too, apparently caused by _steroids_?

No thanks. Seriously.

Think about the...the side effects. Rage? Bacne? _Testicle atrophy?_

Not that I should be thinking about Jared's testicles. Ahem.

I grimace and push myself off of the metal as Chris lectures me on how it might be _good_ if my image of Jared is ruined. I grin inwardly.

Except, Linda thinks it's not going to happen.

"Just wait," she practically moans. "You're going to piss your pants when you see him. He's absurdly delicious and manly." She smiles at me wickedly. "If I had known he was going to turn into such a hottie, I would've stopped teasing the mickey out of you about your crush _way_ early on." I'm not too sure this is a good thing, but I smirk, waving at them before I walk into US History.

I take my time getting to my seat, releasing a shuddering breath when I see that Jared is yet to make it to class. I pull out my text and stare in deep concentration at the cover. There's a water stain in the corner that I'm sure wasn't there before and I frown, bending to my side where my backpack rests and pulling out my water bottle to test the seal.

"See you, Paul."

I freeze.

Slowly, I direct my gaze to the doorjamb.

My mouth pretty much drops open.

_Holy mother of fuck._

He isn't scary at all.

He's _beautiful._


	3. Chapter 3

Jared is beautiful.

He has literally changed from 'cute boy' to 'handsome man' in the span of two weeks. There was _no_ exaggeration.

Um…_What? _What the hell is going on here?

I duck my head as he surveys the classroom, unaware or at least indifferent towards the eyes upon him. Finally, he saunters forward, his _freaking huge_ frame collapsing into the seat next to mine with difficulty. The chair groans from the effort of holding the giant up.

I immediately begin to sweat.

And no. It's not because I'm nervous or anxious.

It's because Jared Cameron is a freaking furnace.

Inconspicuously, I lean away from him. Our History classroom is already burning. Nobody ever fixes the air conditioner in here.

So, basically, this is hell.

I wonder if he's sick? But I've been sick many times and I never transform into a space heater.

These desks are much too close for comfort, I think, grimacing. I peek at him through my hair and he seems to be frowning. His features, sharper and much more defined than his previous youthful appearance, are drawn into an expression that can only be construed as a weird sort of scowling nonchalance. His hair is cropped short, his previously long and silky strands bursting from his hair in a choppy, thick disarray. He lounges in his seat, his eyes focused on absolutely nothing, his fingers (oh my _God_, they _are_ huge) tapping a strange rhythm onto his desktop. He's…_so_ good-looking.

I watch his hands for a moment, lean, sinewy, and long. Not the skinny ones from before.

_Well, you know what they say about big hands,_ my Inner Pervert chants, sounding suspiciously like Linda. I shake my head in disgust and blush to the dust.

Suddenly, Jared pauses. His eyes focus and he blinks. He turns his head _in my direction_-

-I slam my head down onto my desk, cheek down, facing away from him, breathing deeply. Christ, that was close. I don't like when people look at me.

He probably thinks I'm deranged, however.

Sigh. Welcome to my world.

The teacher arrives and lecture begins. I don't pay attention, as usual. I can practically feel Jared's boredom next to me. He hasn't spoken to a single one of his friends at all and I can't help but wonder if _he_ isn't speaking to _them_ or _they_ aren't speaking to _him_. Out of fear, possibly.

Class ends and he extracts himself from his seat with grace. He glides out of the classroom before anyone else, hands in pockets, leaving the majority of the class, including me, staring after his slightly hunched broad back. I can't help but wonder- where the hell is the _real_ Jared Cameron?

* * *

"Did you see him?" Mary attacks me eagerly as we leave school. I stuff my AP Calculus notes into my bag as I walk and roll my eyes at her.

"Yeah, I did." I sigh. "He's the size of a gorilla."

"But much prettier," Linda interrupts, slinging an arm around my shoulders. I roll my eyes, again, and I'm pretty sure if I keep rolling them they're going to roll right out of my sockets. "Has your _crush_ grown to _love_?" Linda bats her lashes at me playfully.

"Whatever," I mumble petulantly. I'm _honest to God_ confused. I loved admiring Jared Cameron, class clown, cute and boyish and charming. But this new guy? I don't know how to react to him.

From very cute to _perfect specimen of a male_. Jeez.

"He's pretty. He's always been pretty. I'll just continue to observe from the sidelines," I smile to myself and Chris groans.

Suddenly, there's a slight commotion behind us. We turn, back towards the entrance of the school, just in time to see Jared and Paul slouch past us. There's a small group of people watching them from the school doors and I shake my head, enjoying the hypocrisy of my thoughts.

_Stalkers._

Although, to be honest, I don't know much about Jared. I don't know his schedule. Nor do I know his interests and hobbies. I don't know if he has siblings or if he's still in love with his girlfriend from last semester. I know that he has a small birthmark on his forearm. I know that he has, or had, anyway, lean, strong thighs and skinny, knobbly fingers and knees. I know that his shoulder blades don't protrude as much as mine do, but his vertebrae can be seen quite clearly.

Er. _Anyway…_

"Hey Jared!"

It takes me a moment to realize that it's _Linda_, brave, brave Linda, who's just screamed the greeting, and I blush heavily, turning a whole one-hundred and eighty degrees away from him, so that I'm the only one facing the opposite way in our group of four.

…Yeah.

Jared returns the greeting in his _extremely deep and sexy, _and rather tired sounding voice and I pull out my phone typing randomly, pretending to check my mail.

The boys leave a few seconds later and Mary nudges my ribs.

"Were you _fake texting_?" she whispers, amused.

"Of course not," I lie easily. "I'm not a coward."

But I totally am.

* * *

The next day, I am practically dreading sitting next to Mr. Cameron again, but somehow I pass the morning without thinking much about it.

He is at lunch when I arrive and- surprisingly- he isn't with his posse of popular people. He sits with Paul at a table in the corner and they slouch and brood the whole lunch period away.

Wow. I guess he dumped all his friends for Paul. I wonder if my 'mono from kissing each other' theory is true after all-

"Kim, stop staring," Chris snaps.

I blink at her. "I'm not staring..." I pause. "But…it's kind of weird, right? Why are they sitting alone like that? Is bacne contagious?"

"_Bacne?_ What the- Ok, I'm not even going to try to understand where that line of thought came from," Linda says, looking confused. I tuck my hair behind an ear as Mary waggles her brows at me.

"It's not so weird to be worried about the love of your life, is it?" she asks, winking playfully at me.

I sigh dramatically, my hand over my heart. "Oh, _Jared_. How you lean your cheek upon your hand! That I were a glove upon your hand. That I may touch that cheek!" I quote mockingly and the girls burst into laughter. Pleased and grinning, I return my eyes to the table in the corner.

But they are gone.

* * *

I approach my History classroom with the stealth one might approach a time bomb. Because of my reluctance, I am one of the last to enter. The teacher, who is already writing on the board, nods at me as I stumble in. I smile weakly before making a quick dash to my desk slipping into it and feeling the heat radiate from Jared in waves. I'm going to die from heat stroke. Mark my words.

Alison Menota is perched on Jared's desk. She's rather brave; not many have dared to approach the hulking boy since his tranformation. She's chatting happily and Jared is nodding along, making smooth comments in his equally smooth voice. I can tell she's affected by it since she smiles wider every time he speaks.

I guess the Jared charm isn't gone. Just…altered.

He isn't vibrant and enthusiastic as he speaks; he's subdued and suave. I tune out their conversation, mostly because I don't care enough to listen to girls hitting on Jared, and I pick at my textbook. There's a tear…in the right corner…if I could just pull it off without it being a snowball that could cause an avalanche and destroy my whole text…

Alison Menota slides off his desk as the teacher turns to the class and I shake my hair out, allowing it to curtain around my face.

By the time fifteen minutes of class have passed, I'm feeling ridiculously warm. Slowly, so as not to bring any attention to myself, I shrug out of my hoodie, sliding it off my arms carefully. I tie it around my waist, my bare arms now on display, and resume staring straight ahead.

Until…I feel something.

I get this weird feeling. This strange, strange, feeling, that bubbles through me and makes me want to curl up and roll out of the classroom like a large roly-poly.

Cautiously, I glimpse to my right.

Jared.

Jared is staring at my arm.

…

I furrow my brows, following his gaze down to where my hand rests, clutching at my pencil, then moving upwards so that I reach my forearm, then my upper.

Nothing. There's absolutely nothing wrong with my arm…And yet…

Jared stares intently at my arm and I stare intently at Jared.

What the hell is going on.

Finally, he blinks rapidly and shakes his head, moving his gaze back to the front of the classroom. He expels a breath, taps his pencil a few times, and then his eyes slide over-

I'm looking away by the time he, er, looks at me. I know that all he can see is my dark curtain of hair and I thank my lucky stars that I didn't get the chin-length cut Chris was encouraging me to try. I do love my curtain.

I high-tail it out of there at the end of the period, my head swarming.

* * *

"...so I was just wondering if you had any old dance dresses, you know? You guys actually attend school dances, so..."

I'm ladling some chicken noodle soup into Kevin's plastic Scooby-Doo bowl. He glares at me when I skimp out on the noodles and I nudge him, smiling, before pouring some more into his bowl, just enough to placate him. He grins and digs in, dipping his cheesy bread and chewing loudly.

"Why do you need them? Finally attending a dance, are you?" Chris leans her elbows against the breakfast counter watching me move around the kitchen.

"I would rather pour toxic acid into my eyes," I confirm, my lip curling in disgust at her guess. "And I _have_ been to a dance. Freshman year. You remember." She should. She was my date, after all.

The memory makes me shudder. Homecoming. Fucking Homecoming. Around the same time my weird pseudo-worship of Jared began. He had been on the Homecoming court, as well as his date. Of course. I wasn't sure if he had won or not since Chris and I had left early intending to do something that didn't make us want to pull our teeth out to add excitement to the night. Seriously, it was _that_ boring.

"So why do you need them?" Chris asks, confused, pulling apart a slab of cheesy bread and popping it into her mouth whole. I swear, food disappears so fast whenever she's around.

"I have the one dress, you know, the green one from that sucky Homecoming, and I'm sort of getting tired of seeing it in my closet," I admit, rooting around in the fridge for something to drink. I pull out some lemonade. "I did some research and found a non-profit organization in Port Angeles that accepts old dresses as donations for girls who can't afford to buy a dress themselves." I pour the three of us some lemonade, setting the glass near Kevin's placemat before leaning over the breakfast bar to hand it over to Chris. She accepts it gratefully.

"Really? What's it called?"

"The Fairy Godmother Project. I asked Linda and Mary and they have a few they were willing to donate. You can just give them to me; I was planning on making a trip to Port Angeles anyway, so I can just drop them off."

"Oh yeah? What for?" Chris takes a hearty swig of her lemonade, face puckering slightly. I smirk at her, taking a gentler sip of my own sour drink. Mom sure knows how to make lemonade _lemon-y_.

"I called Al's record store a few days ago. They have a new shipment of vinyls. I'll probably be there all day."

Chris pushes herself off the breakfast bar, rolling her eyes. "You and your obsession with those oldies records."

"At least I'm not proud of the fact that I think the _Black Eyed Peas_ is good music," I sneer.

"Music snob," she counters. I grin indulgently.

"No. _You're_ just ignorant," I retort, gesturing towards her with my glass. It's a really old argument. She thinks I'm better off listening to _Justin Timberlake_ and _Shakira_. I drown in _The Who_ and _Queen_.

"No wonder you have no fun at school dances. You probably don't even know what we're dancing to," Chris says.

I nod in agreement. I don't listen to shitty music. I'd rather not bleed from the ears, thanks.

"Speaking of school dances," Chris begins, running a thin finger over the rim of her lemonade glass. "Are you going to Prom?"

I look at her. "Is that supposed to be funny?"

"What?" she shrugs. "It's _Prom_. It's like mandatory."

"You know what's mandatory? Me keeping my sanity. I'm not attending another school dance. Ever."

"Dances are for wussies," Kevin pipes up.

"That's right, Kev," I agree, patting his shoulder as Chris rolls her big brown eyes at the two of us.

I've trained him well.

* * *

I'm confused and slightly weirded out as I walk into History class on Wednesday, the third day of Jared's return.

I didn't tell my friends about the weird incident. I don't even know if it was a big deal.

Was it just me? Is staring at arms actually strange? Perhaps I've been hiding behind my curtain of hair so often that I don't even know social norms. This could be true.

Well, today, I can't hide behind my curtain. My long bangs are pulled back in a clip and my hair is lifted into a ponytail. I like it. It makes my face look less wide and my eyes less small.

I slide into my seat and bend over so that my face is practically shielded by my arms, and proceed to doodle in the margins of my spiral. I'm not an artist, but I enjoy the puppy dogs, stars, and occasional other creatures that are created by my pencil.

Jared arrives. He takes his seat next to me. He's less warm than usual, or, well, recent usual anyway, and I glimpse down at my blue v-neck in contemplation. I could probably slide into my hoodie…

He pulls out his own spiral. He pats himself down.

The action seems so familiar, so Jared, that I bite my lip, repressing a smile. Before I can even second guess my decision, I hold out a spanking brand new number two pencil in Jared's general direction. I don't look at him.

From my peripheral vision, I see him slow his patting and stare down at my offering.

"Oh, wow- uh-" He seems confused. I don't blame him. He probably doesn't know who the hell I am. "-um, thanks, Kimberley."

Ok. Scratch that. Maybe he does.

That's…weird. All this time…I don't know what to think.

I nod, not looking; he isn't really looking either, and he takes the pencil from my grasp, his fingers sliding over my own…

I drop the pencil.

I drop the pencil because, first, I thought he had it, and second, oh my _GOD_ his_ fingers_.

They're ridiculously warm and something weird erupts within me as our fingers brush.

Like weird. Really weird. I've never…I mean…I've never touched Jared before.

I watch in horror, as the pencil drops to the floor, practically in slow motion, making a loud click against the ground before ricocheting off a few times in succession.

I blink. Well, fuck.

I reach down to get the pencil, and my head promptly collides with a rock.

"Shit," I hiss, clutching my head, just as Jared says, "Fuck," his own head retreating slightly from its bent position.

Oh my fucking Lord. This cannot be happening right now.

Quick as a freaking wink, I duck back under the table, retrieve the pencil, and set it on his desk. I don't look at him. He's still slightly bent from the waist down from trying to grab the pencil.

He raises. "Right. Thanks…" He still doesn't look at me. I still don't look at him.

I nod. I blush. I block my face from him with my arm, resting my elbow on my desk, and class begins.

A few minutes before class ends, the teacher gives us the rest of the period to chat with our friends. Seeing as I have no friends in this class, I pull out my copy of _The Great Gatsby_, which needs to be read by Friday, and peruse, hiding behind the pages of my book.

Sometime later, I find my eyes drifting to Jared's frame. He's lying on his long arms, using my pencil as a drumstick. He stares off into the distance for a bit, his pretty face pensive, before he inhales sharply and sits up. I quickly cover my face with my book and continue reading.

Just a few weeks ago, he would have been chatting up a storm with his buddies. Now…it's disconcerting.

I hear him adjust himself in his chair.

There's a pause.

Then; "Oh, right. Uh, Kimberley." I start. I slowly begin to lower my book. "Here's your penc-"

His eyes widen. My pencil makes another unfortunate trip to the ground, thanks to gravity…and Jared's fingers.

He dropped the pencil. He dropped the pencil after seeing my face.

Um. I'm not _that_ hideous.

The dull clatter my pencil makes as it hits the ground is dim in my ears. Apparently dim in Jared's ears too, since he hasn't reacted at all. His hand is still held out, as though holding my pencil, and he looks stunned, astonished, in awe.

Jared Cameron is staring at me. No, not just looking, glancing. He is full out staring, as though I'm wearing a neon sign on my forehead that tells him to do so.

I mean, yeah. He's never actually seen me before. But this reaction is a little overdramatic, don't you think?

I shift in my seat uncomfortably. I'm not used to good-looking guys staring at me. If I were, my name would be Alison Menota, not Kim Connweller.

Jared is staring at me with this weird-ass expression; like…like I cured cancer, saved his whole family from the plague, and rescued a million puppies from drowning all at once.

I'm starting to get really uncomfortable here. I'm tempted to reach down and grab my pencil, just to escape his gaze. My cheeks flush hotly as my eyes wander away from Jared, trying to catch my bearings.

What the hell is going on?

"You-" he croaks and my eyes snap back to meet his. He's _flustered_. Jared 'Suave' Cameron is _flustered_. "Um, you, uh-"

My brows furrow and his eyes are now magnets to my forehead. He drops his gaze slowly, all the way down to my chin, then snaps them back to my eyes like he can't help himself.

He's staring at me like I'm about to grant him a million dollars, expectant, full of wonder. _Dumbfounded._

So, I say the only thing that comes to mind.

"My pencil," I mumble.

He starts. "What?" He breathes, blinking rapidly, before his eyes widen. "Oh, shit. Uh-" He ducks under the table in a swift movement and resurfaces, pencil in tow. "H-here." His eyes immediately seek out my face once more. He sets the pencil gently on my desk, his gaze never leaving mine, and I stare down at it.

Stupid pencil.

"Um, thanks," I mutter and Jared lights up like a fucking Christmas tree.

No, _seriously_. He is literally beaming at me. I turn away, slightly frightened.

He's still watching me, I can tell. I choose to stare at the pencil because it's less attractive and less likely to mess up my way of living.

I don't know what's gotten into Jared and why he looks as though someone hit him in the head with a baseball bat. But I'm not sticking around long enough to find out.

I jump out of my seat the minute the bell rings and power walk out of the classroom.

_This isn't happening._

"Hey, Kimberley!" His voice sounds strained and really weird. "Wait up-"

Oh my God.

He catches up to me with ease, matching his strides with mine, his long legs making it seem practically effortless. I slow down, because I'm courteous like that, and turn to him. He's wearing the most intense expression upon his face. I stare up at him, extremely confused. Then, his perfect lips move.

"I want to talk to you."

Oh my God.

He raises one of those sinfully large hands and rubs the back of his neck, chuckling nervously. "I know we haven't-you know- really spoken much-"

My eyes widen.

Oh. My. God.

This isn't happening.

"But that should- _will_ change," he says firmly. He gazes down at me like I'm a sweet little bunny nibbling on a dandelion petal. Like I'm the savior of the Wizarding World. Like I'm a flipping superhero. I stare up at him like he's deranged. "I want to get to know you."

His eyes are light brown, soft, and so, so fucking beautiful. He makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat as he stares at me before he clears it, looks away for a second, then looks back and tries again. _What is going on._

"Kimberley. Will you-"

I turn and walk away as fast as I can.

Because this isn't happening.

I must have dreamt that up.

I hear him call after me a moment later, after his stunned pause. He sounds confused, worried, and mostly…_sad_.

Fucking hell. My imagination. My wild, wild imagination. This is not real life.

This is _not_ happening.


	4. Chapter 4

"You _ran away_ from him?"

I whack the ball back in Lila's direction and scowl. "_Yes,_ and if you had been there, you probably would have down the same."

Lila fixes me with an incredulous look as she returns my volley, sending it sharply to the left so that I have to chase after it. She's a funny girl; a community college student and one of the only tennis players on our team that actually challenges me- and I don't mean that in an arrogant sense. It's a known fact that I'm probably the best player by far. Besides Ned. _Jesus._ I hate that kid. "Dude. You've been crushing on this guy for years…"

"Not really," I huff, rallying the ball back towards her, so quick that she misses it. I smirk and stretch out my arm. "Good game."

"Whatever," Lila mutters, sweat trickling down her neck, hands on knees, the picture of exhaustion. I see Coach Narez telling us to switch partners in the court next to us, so I approach the net to hastily finish our discussion.

"It was surreal," I confide as I watch Lila shake out her shoulders. "I thought I was dreaming or something. _Why was he talking to me?_" I ask her desperately, as if she might have the answer.

"Man, I have no clue," she shrugs. "But if I were you, I'd watch my back around the kid- he seems weird."

"Definitely," I say firmly, slapping one hand on the net as if to finalize my decision before returning to my post on the court to await my next victim.

* * *

I stare down at it. The doodles.

The dark, dim light of my bedroom casts eerie shadows over the pages of my history notes.

_Mrs. Jared Cameron_ stares up at me. Taunting.

Why did he have to do this?

There's no explanation. There is absolutely no explanation as to why this fantastic boy would suddenly look in my direction and…and…

And what?

What does he want from me? Er…my history homework? Tutoring in math?

I suppose I could help him, though I loathe the idea; as cruel as it is, I've objectified him in a way that I don't wish to back out of. I can't…I can't speak to him. It'll ruin everything, everything I've built up.

My walls. My judgements. Gone.

And so, with that thought, I close my notes, determined.

He wants to talk to me? Well, too freaking bad.

I'm sure there's someone else in that class who would be more than happy to lend him the history homework.

* * *

"So, Miss Connweller," Mr. Rupert gives me a piercing look over his spectacles.

I shift uncomfortably. "Yes, sir."

He shuffles my class registration papers a few times, licks his lips, then peers down at my sheets like he's never seen anything like them before. "Well, you've certainly signed up for a good share of APs for next year."

"I figured since it's my senior year, I might as well give up my social life," I joke and Mr. Rupert gives me his usual piercing look. I swear, he's the only one that doesn't understand my jokes. Actually, no, there's a lot of people who don't.

"Well, you've certainly packed on a load," he agrees, ticking off my sheet. "AP English IV, AP Physics, AP Statistics, AP Calculus BC, AP Government- for first semester?"

"Er, yes."

"AP Economics for second semester…I see you're quitting Band. Any reason for that?"

"Erm." I blush. "Lack of funds. I can't…keep renting the saxophone anymore."

Mr. Rupert gives me another classic piercing look.

"Your first chair. Surely your family can provide you with the money to continue your_ one extra-curricular activity_-"

I bristle in irritation. "Actually, sir, that's why I've requested a free period; for my _other_ extra-curricular. My tennis coach has asked me to start teaching beginning youth tennis classes in the afternoons."

He accepts this and returns to perusing my registration sheet. "Good, good. That will look fantastic on your college applications."

I roll my eyes discretely.

"…but I see here you've only registered for six classes. You've already requested a free period. You can't request two."

I shift awkwardly again. "Erm, yes. I'm still thinking about the last one. An elective, perhaps."

"An elective," Mr. Rupert scoffs. "What good is an elective? Why don't you take AP Psychology?"

"Sophomore year," I say sheepishly.

"Alright. AP Music Theory?"

"Freshman."

"AP Spanish IV?"

"I've already finished the language requirement. I'll think about it, sir," I say hastily as he opens his mouth to suggest something else I've already completed or that bores me. "I might do something easy though…try something new."

He shrugs. "Suit yourself. But keep that GPA up, while you're at it."

I murmur in agreement as he signs my form and sends me off to class.

* * *

After skipping lunch for my meeting with my advisor, I feel a little nervous making my way to History class. I haven't really though much about the… _incident_… but I'm certainly thinking about it when I see Jared draped elegantly over his desk, staring at _my_ desk, as though anxious.

I grind my teeth.

Apparently loud enough that he hears it.

He looks up. His eyes widen. He stands up.

Now, this would be weird. The kid is standing up in the middle of the classroom in reaction to seeing me stroll in.

But what makes this the single-most strangest occurrence in the entire world is the fact that he stands so fast, his thighs bang into his desk and the top of his desk somehow manages to break off from the rest of the desk and fall to the floor in an unholy clatter.

The whole class stares. Jared stares too. At me.

I gape.

"Um…Mr. Cameron?" our History teacher asks nervously. "Er…Sir?"

He isn't even looking at her. He's staring at me, watching me beneath those intense, beautifully dark eyebrows, his gaze leaving me feeling scorched.

_Gah! This is no time to be attracted to the weirdo! Abort! Abort!_

"Excuse me, Mr. Cameron," the teacher begins again, a little more firmly.

"What," Jared snaps, turning his face just slightly to look at her. I can tell he's still watching me from the corner of his eye because the weirdly scorched feeling remains. I take this moment to scurry to my desk like a frightened mouse, sliding into it and ducking my head. Jared's whole frame relaxes subtly and I refrain from questioning this.

Things are weird enough.

The teacher is rubbing at her forehead. "Just get a new desk, please. Class, open your books to page two-fifty-three."

Wow, _he_ got off easy, I think enviously as I see him easily lift the broken desk up in one hand, slouch over to one of the unused desks near the back and switch it for a less mangled contraption.

If I had broken a desk, I don't think I would have heard the end of it. But I suppose it was an accident. A weird one, but an accident nonetheless.

I scoot away from him as he collapses into his new graffitied desk. It groans pitifully and I give it a sympathetic glance. Jared catches it and grins indulgently in my direction.

I blink, and then turn away, a fierce blush creeping up my cheeks. I can practically feel Jared's smile widening.

_No._ Just no.

I won't allow this.

Class begins anticlimactically and I furiously scribble notes down instead of dozing off as usual. And when there aren't any notes to write, I rewrite what I've already written.

And he's just there. Sitting next to me. I can't be too sure if he's staring or not, but his knees are angled in my direction, from the surreptitious glance I gave them, and so I can only fathom a guess that he is.

Slightly creeped and more than a little unnerved, I wait anxiously for the bell to ring.

Our teacher (bless her) lectures all the way till the end of class. The bell rings, interrupting her mid-word, and I jump up, throwing my backpack over my shoulder and jogging out of the room.

"Hey-Hey, Kimberley, _wait_!" I turn around to see Jared chasing after me, wearing a panicked expression on his handsome face.

No.

No no no no no no no.

I give him a panicked look of my own before speeding up. Some guy drops his shit in my way and I literally growl. Considering my options, I leap over his books with all the grace of an elephant and start sprinting my way to the opposite end of the building where I know Chris' locker is.

This would all be very humorous if it wasn't my life.

So as of now, it's a bloody nightmare.

* * *

"Something is afoot," I tell Chris suspiciously as I lean my head against the locker next to her's. She had listened patiently throughout my slightly incoherent version of what had occurred both today and yesterday. She's the first to hear about it, besides Lila. Honestly, I should have told _Chris_ first.

She gives me a strange glance. "But, Kim, I don't get it. You say he chased after you. Why don't you just stop and hear what he has to say?"

I don't answer her. I look away uncomfortably and my eyes land on-

"_Shit,_ Chris! He's coming this way!"

She looks past me, and her own lovely eyes widen. "What the _fuck_? Is this for real?"

I look back at her, slightly perturbed. "You thought I was lying?"

She looks uncomfortable. "Well, no, but-"

"Kimberley!" an eager voice interrupts and both Chris and I turn to stare gobsmacked at the new arrival. He beams at me, a sexy smile flittering across his lips.

"Um, hi," I retort, rather hoarsely, before clearing my throat. "Er, how-how are you…?"

I want to cringe. But he looks delighted.

"I'm great," he coos back at me, moving forward, and I'm so taken aback, I literally take a step back, banging my head into Chris' open locker door in the process.

His pretty eyes widen as I yelp and he looks distraught. "Shit, are you ok?" he questions, hands reaching out anxiously. They twitch as though he's restraining himself from attacking me.

My eyes widen. I stare at them. His hands. _They are coming towards me._

I turn to Chris with difficulty, and see that she is watching us with the most bewildered expression on her face. We exchange befuddled yet meaningful glances. Mine all full of, _I told you so, you miserable hag who refused to believe me. _And hers is, _I'm sorry, Oh Brilliant One, that I refused to believe the most amazing person to ever walk the face of the Earth because this news was too ground-breakingly strange to digest._

Or something. Cough.

"Um, Jared?" she starts, finishing up with a sharp throat clearing when he barely spares her a glance, too busy trying to peer at the back of my head without physically touching me. His eyes flicker to her after a moment, bored, and she speaks again. "Do you mind? I-uh- need to speak with Kim for a bit."

He blinks, and then nods casually. "Oh. Sure." He turns the force of his disarming smile upon me. "I'll wait for you. _Kim_," he adds slyly, before strolling a few paces away, giving us our desired privacy.

Once I'm sure he's out of earshot, I turn to Chris. "I'm scared."

"_What is happening_?" she hisses. "All that pining paid off?" she questions, looking slightly bitter, and I wonder at that.

"No," I reply softly, shaking my head. "This is weird. This is something else."

"A bet, maybe?" she questions. I chew my lip.

"Yeah, it's probably something like that. Especially now that he's hanging out with that Paul kid. That asshole." I glare murderously down the hall as if the aforementioned boy might appear and start laughing maliciously in my face.

"I thought he had a girlfriend? Or a fuck buddy, at least?" she wonders, shutting her locker door. We both take a glance in Jared's direction. He isn't even trying to hide the fact that he's staring straight at me. In fact, he gleefully waves when my eyes connect with his. I ignore this.

"Alison Menota?" I guess knowingly and she inclines her head in agreement. "I think he does. Or did. I don't know. I don't know the protocol for these bet things. Anyway, what do I do?" I plead.

She looks torn. "Kim, I don't know. We need to discuss this in further detail, though. With the girls. Probably over a lot of booze." I smirk in agreement. "I'll see you tonight, ok?"

"Ok," I whisper back and she squeezes my hand for a second before turning to leave.

"Kim!"

My eye twitches. I think he sees it because suddenly, he looks a little bashful.

"I'm sorry if I'm bothering you- if you need to get to class-" he says shyly, and I soften, just a bit. I can't resist. He just- he looks so adorable when he's shy like that! Like a wide-eyed puppy that's been kicked in the nuts.

…probably not an apt comparison, but my brain's a bit on the dull side at the moment. Probably from the lack of _sane things_ happening in my life. And that gorgeous smile. _Stop smiling, Cameron, if you know what's good for you!_

"That's ok," I allow. "Did you need homework help?"

He looks confused. "Er-no, I-"

"Or perhaps tutoring for another subject?" I ramble on. "Because there are a lot of smart kids in this school that would love to help you-"

"No, Kim, I don't want tutoring help. I mean, I won't say no if you're offering," he adds, smiling at me cheerfully with those pretty chocolate eyes. I wince in reply. "But that's not it…" He lets out a shaky breath, and swings his arms back and forth shortly. "God, this is hard."

I hold up my hand. "Then don't," I say quietly.

He stops swinging. He stares at me. "What?"

Because I can't do this. I can't just stand by and let my opinion of him be ruined. He's something to me, has been for the last three years, and I don't want this to happen. It's not too late- I can salvage what I had, the admiring, the worshiping from afar. I can still do it.

But I can't stand and listen to him become someone I don't want him to be.

Because, I'm a realist. What other reason, besides a bet, is there for popular, good-looking Jared Cameron to randomly talk to me?

"I need to get to class," I say lowly. I walk past him and he doesn't stop me, rooted in place.

I'm more than glad.

* * *

"Kim, did you finish the third CompSci assignment?"

Avery approaches me from behind as I work in the computer lab during sixth period. I smile at him as cheerfully as I can.

"You mean the one using Java?"

"No, Oracle. Did you finish it?"

"Oh, that. Yeah, I'm just about done. Did you need some help?"

"From the resident computer genius? Hell yeah," he jokes and I laugh, kicking back my chair so that it's balanced on two legs. "How did you get a perfect score on that last one? I swear to God, everyone else failed…"

"Don't hate the player, hate the game!" I sing-song.

"Don't worry, I already do." Avery sighs, taking a seat next to me. He's a good kid with a killer GPA; most likely to be valedictorian- and for some reason, he appreciates my humor, so we get along. He adjusts his glasses and shoots me a sidelong look. "I saw you talking to Jared Cameron today."

I freeze. "Um, yeah."

"What'd he want?"

I consider my nails, hesitating for a second. "Tutoring help."

Avery rolls his eyes. "Of course. Guys like him are all the same."

I frown and look away, out the window where the rain has just started to splatter on the concrete. "Yeah, I guess they are."

* * *

The loud buzzing of cheerful after school students' excited chatter rings in my ears as I exit Calculus. My locker isn't too far, so I make a detour, planning on stuffing my History book and Spanish text away, since I definitely won't be working on those tonight.

Someone bumps carelessly into my shoulder and the action gives me pause. As I stand in the midst of a sea of students, I finally notice the hulking figure standing beside my locker.

Wow. Persistent. He must really need that bet money or whatever.

Feeling a bit cowardly, but also recognizing that he couldn't possibly do anything besides…besides…ruin his reputation in my eyes, I make my way over slowly.

He looks up as I approach warily, and I notice that, somehow, in the last hour or so, his face seems to have grown gaunt. He jumps off of my locker and shuffles awkwardly, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

"Hey," he murmurs in his deep voice. I nod at him sharply and then fiddle with my locker combination, trying to ignore his presence.

In the short time it take me to maneuver my books into my narrow locker, he runs his hand through his hair, anxiously cracks his knuckles, rubs his palms together, and even scuffs the ground with his toe. Like a little schoolboy.

I slam my locker door shut and turn to him, but don't look at him. "Well, bye," I mutter to his broad, handsome chest. I turn to leave.

Suddenly, there's a warm hand curved around my upper arm and I'm being whirled around. I inhale sharply as I meet his light eyes, somehow my face just inches from his even with the foot of height difference.

He looks desperate. His eyes wild, they search mine…for something…for _something_…

"Why do you keep running from me?" he blurts out and then swallows roughly, his Adam's apple bobbing. How he can make in involuntary reaction look attractive is beyond me.

I stare at him. I stare down at the large, sinewy hand wrapped around my arm, which looks tiny in comparison. He lets go of me like he's been burned, but continues to watch me, cautious.

"Because," I start. I look away, chew my lip. "I don't know what you want."

He takes a step forward. "Then why," he asks lowly, "don't you stop and figure out?"

I shake my head. _No._ No, this won't do at all.

And so I tell him the truth.

I raise my eyes, filled with fire, to meet his and I lift my chin defiantly. He can decipher his own meaning from what I'm about to say.

"Because I know I'm just setting myself up for disappointment."

His expression morphs. He looks stunned. I turn to leave, feeling exhausted and just…_God,_ this is horrible. I never wanted this. I never wanted him to speak to me. _Why did this have to happen?_

I pretend I don't hear the loud _bang_ as flesh meets locker metal.

I don't look back.


	5. Chapter 5

The hallway is relatively empty as I power walk towards my Biology classroom, buttery morning sunshine bathing the walls in a pale yellow glow. I struggle to hold up my saxophone case, tennis bag, as well as my backpack, spiral and two textbooks, but my efforts are useless. My English textbook slides to the floor with a loud thud and I curse as the noise ricochets off the walls.

As if in succession, my second textbook follows, slipping out of my fingers, followed by my spiral, and my tennis bag slips off my shoulder and onto the floor. Sighing, I bend to pick my stuff up, grumbling lightly.

There's the soft noise of footsteps approaching me but I pay it no heed, assuming that it's a straggler on their way to class. The noise stops, however, and two large feet, clad in converse sneakers, come to a stop right in front of me.

My gaze travels upwards, the long legs clothed in a pair of blue jeans, the green t-shirt underneath the plaid long-sleeved shirt, the tall frame, tan skin, handsome face. I swallow. Jared.

"Oh," I murmur unnecessarily, dropping my gaze once it reaches those pretty brown eyes. There's a small squeak as his shoes move against the linoleum, and suddenly he's bending beside me, helping me pick up my uncooperative shit. I flush at the gesture.

Soon, the two of us have everything together and we stand, simultaneous. He stares at me with an unfathomable expression and I look anywhere but him.

Slowly, he hands me my textbook and spiral. "Thanks," I say gratefully, shyly, adjusting my sports bag on my shoulder. His eyes dart to the action.

"I didn't know you played tennis," he says, his expression unreadable. I shrug.

_There's a lot you don't know about me,_ I want to say. "Yeah, I do," I say instead.

He runs a hand through his short, dark hair and expels a breath. He looks as though he didn't sleep a wink last night and I wonder at that.

It's funny that he can look so exhausted, yet somehow manage to look delicious at the same time, like a model who just rolled out of bed, perfect face already on. It reminds me of the polarities between him and I.

"Can I walk you to class?" he asks hesitantly and I stiffen.

"I don't think that's such a good idea," I say, looking away. He looks chagrined; add that to his tired features and slouching figure and you'd think I ran over his dog. "Don't you remember what I said yesterday?"

His face falls just slightly before a concentrated serious expression makes an appearance. "I remember everything you say, Kim," he says in a low voice, as though he wants me to catch a drift I have no way of knowing about. He makes as if to leave, ducking his head, hands in pockets, his whole demeanor screaming _rejection_-

I bite my lip. Ignoring the part of me that wants him to continue walking away, I call his name. He turns around immediately. "Um. Y-you could, er, walk me, if you'd like..."

A beat passes and his mouth falls open, shocked, I assume. Suddenly, a bright smile lights up his features and I am, once again, treated to the sight of Jared's beautiful glowing beam.

Damn. He is _way_ too happy about this.

"Stop looking so happy," I say quietly, mostly because I'm confused by this outlandish reaction.

"Sorry," he replies immediately, his grin fading just slightly to a more sheepish expression. He levels his steps so that he's walking besides me. He's radiating happiness in waves and it takes all my energy not to question this.

"I'm sorry about what I said yesterday," I say to break the silence. Heat creeps up my cheeks. I sneak a look at him. Jared looks as though Christmas has come early. I continue, undeterred. "I mean, I meant what I said, but I shouldn't have said it."

His smile droops just slightly. "You meant what you said?" He asks slowly.

"Yes," I tell him. "Why are you talking to me?" I blurt.

His brows furrow. He runs a hand through his hair. "Because...not talking to you isn't an option," he says finally. I huff out a laugh. Interesting answer.

"Look, if this is some sort of sick bet or prank-"

He turns to me, a furious expression marring his strong features. "_What?_ A _bet_? Has someone done that to you before?" His whole frame is shaking violently, his hands clenched into fists and I'm a little frightened.

"Whoa, no," I tell him, placing a hand gently on the inside of his elbow for a moment. He calms almost immediately, staring down at my hand with a strained expression. I yank it away, blushing, and his whole frame shudders.

His reaction is so ridiculous to the bet idea, I dispel the thought in my mind. I should have known. Jared is too _nice_. I immediately soften towards him. "Nobody notices me enough to do that," I laugh, trying to joke, to reassure him.

It doesn't. He looks even more upset. "Kim," he says softly. "You need to know...I'm sorry. I'm sorry for ignoring you. I didn't mean-I was an idiot. A real fucking idiot." He looks so forlorn, so depressed.

I stare at him. "I don't- I don't know why you're apologizing- I mean- I don't-" I pause.

_I don't care._

_I don't understand._

_I don't want you to _not_ ignore me._

He notices my pause and watches me carefully. We come to a stop outside my Biology classroom.

"It doesn't matter," I say, finally. I look away, feeling his dark gaze on my pensive face. "I liked it that way."

* * *

"Did you finish registering for classes?" I ask Chris as I slide into my seat next to her at lunch.

"Of course," she replies airily, twisting the cap of her water bottle closed. "All regular except for AP Chemistry and AP Physics BC. Oh, and I'm taking Forensic Science," she tells me, eyes glittering.

"Nice," I fist bump her. She's a science genius, so it suits her just perfectly. "Mr. Rupert was all 'hey, Kim, let's make you even more of a hermit by registering you in an AP elective'. I was like...hell no."

She leans forward subtly. "Did you figure out whether you're taking Band next year?"

I frown uncomfortably. "I'm not." I lower my voice a notch as our friends join us, chattering excitedly. "I don't think I can pay for the sax every month, especially since I'm doing extra tennis lessons." I run a hand through my hair, bringing my fingers down to twist at the tips. "It's fine. Band was getting irritatingly competitive, anyway. I'll miss that sax, though."

She pulls away looking strangely contemplative, but I don't question it.

"Hey, Kim," Mary starts, looking somewhere behind her. I raise my brow. "Er..."

"Jared's staring at you," Linda informs me abruptly, eyebrows waggling and I look past her to see..._Jesus_.

"What is _up_ with that guy?" Chris mutters, irritated, as I blush to the roots of my hair. My God, he needs to just...stop. His gaze burns a hole through my head.

He's lounging in his shoddy cafeteria chair, one arm draped over the table right beside his mountain of food. His ankle is resting over his kneecap, his other arm dangling off the end. He smiles slowly when he sees me glancing at him.

Paul is grumpily inhaling his cheeseburger from beside him, occasionally sending Jared irritated glances. I can't help but once again think how _weird_ it is for them to be friends...Paul's grimy gray hoodie, scream-o t-shirt, backwards baseball cap and scuffed up mountain boots differ from Jared's down-to-Earth t-shirt-plaid-button down-and-converse ensemble. They're both excruciatingly good-looking with similar short cropped hair and strong, chiseled features, though, so there's that.

Paul suddenly catches my eyes. He smirks at me through a mouthful of cheeseburger.

Fucking weird. I don't think he's ever acknowledged my existence before. Most haven't, though.

Furrowing my brows in slight disgust, I turn away from the interesting sight they provide. "Yeah, I don't know. What I do know, however, is that you two-" I gesture to Mary and Linda, "-haven't told me what you want from Port Angeles tomorrow."

"What does Chris want?" Mary asks, interestedly, but Linda is distracted by Jared, turning to look at him in fascination before turning around and giving me irritatingly suggestive looks. I ignore her, just as I ignore his distracting gaze.

"Food, obviously," I smirk and they laugh at that.

"Fuck you," Chris groans, but she's grinning.

The rest of the lunch period passes in relative normality, if it weren't for the goosebumps on my flesh, the physical reminder that I am being closely watched. My face has a permanent blush. I occasionally glance over and even though I _know_ he'll be watching, I'm surprised to see him doing just that every time.

Eurgh. Being noticed is so_ tiring_.

* * *

The last bell of the day rings, breaking me out of my trance, and I gather up my backpack, my arms laden with spirals I plan to deposit in my locker for the weekend. I juggle three thick spirals and my Spanish tome in my arms as I make me way to my locker.

Jared had been suspiciously absent during History but I don't really question it. Everyone deserves a healthy skip; although after missing two weeks, you'd think a person would've had enough. Although, what do I know?

I stop at my locker, twisting the knob. I glance to my left and _freeze_.

There's no locker there.

The door is gone. Daphne Clearwater's locker is _gone_.

I stare at the empty space.

_Wait._ Hadn't...hadn't Jared-

"Hey, Kim," a voice breaks me out of my thoughts and I whirl around, hand pressed to my chest, thoughts of locker doors and flesh meeting metal leaving my head momentarily.

"Oh," I breathe as Jared strides into view. "Um, hi."

"Sorry I didn't come to class today...my friend Sam...needed something," he recounts awkwardly.

"Oh, ok," I shrug. It isn't really my business, although I suppose I _was_ curious. Except this piece of information is so vague, my curiosity is only fueled.

He scratches the back of his head. "I was wondering where you were...your friends already left school."

"Oh, yeah." I adjust the books in my hands. "I have a Math Society meeting today, so..." It sounds slightly nerdy, but I don't blush. Math is one of the things I'm terribly proud of.

"You're in math club?" he asks, surprised. When I nod my head, he looks just slightly distraught. "That's great."

"I guess." I close my locker door. "Um, I should probably get going..."

"Hold on, Kim," he pleads his arm shooting out to hold mine and accidentally knocking my spiral out of my arms in the process. "_Shit!_ Sorry."

"That's ok," I start, looking down at the ground and then I stop, all the blood in my face, all the noise of the hallway, everything, everything fading.

Jared's looking down too. We're both staring.

My history notes. My history notes have fallen open. To a page. A certain page.

_Holy shit_. My life is someone's idea of a joke. The world hates me.

_Mrs. Jared Cameron_ stares back up at us. Surrounded by those fucking hearts and stars.

The school could have burned down around us and I wouldn't have noticed. In fact all that heat is nothing compared to the heat that rushes to my face.

And because I am a horrible, horrible, masochist, I raise my eyes just a bit, traveling over the hard planes of Jared's chest, the defined collarbone, the subtle swell of his Adam's apple, finally ending at his dusty rose lips. As I watch, they raise upwards, just one corner, half-smiling, a bit of a smirk, honestly, and fuck, I am completely _screwed_.

The smile continues to widen and before I can see it in its full, attractive glory, I dart my eyes back down again. Which is a mistake, because _Mrs. Jared Cameron,_ the doodle, reminds me of my predicament. Damn it to hell.

He bends over, so slow, it could be considered slow motion, and lifts my spiral up with one hand, flipping it shut between his long fingers. He hands it to me.

I take it, completely fucking mortified. Half of me wants to laugh hysterically and the other half wants to crawl under a rock and never come out again.

"Thanks," I squeak from between numb lips. My eyes raise just a bit, to catch his gorgeous full-blown grin, and I flush.

I literally run away, my cheeks on fire, my hands shaking.

Worst. Day. Ever.

* * *

It's Saturday morning and I have plans for today; tennis until noon and then I'm off to Port Angeles to snoop around Al's for the rest of the day.

I'm shaking hands with my opponent after a decent, clean game, when I hear my name being called. I turn.

Jared stands there. Jared is at my tennis practice. What the hell. I flush, humiliated, as I recall our last encounter.

I have to blink back my shock when I see two little girls, twins, holding small rackets and wearing big grins as they hold Jared's hands, one on either side. The sight makes me melt, just slightly.

"Hey, guys," I greet, slightly breathless from my last game. I approach them, smiling hesitantly. Jared is giving me a strange look. He closes his mouth and opens it a few times, before swallowing convulsively, his gaze traveling up and down my frame and then lingering on my legs. I pull at my tennis skirt self-consciously.

"Jenn, Jessie," Jared begins, a little hoarsely. He clears his throat. He gestures to me with something akin to bashful joy in his eyes. "This is Kim. Kim, my sisters."

His _sisters_.

I blush and smile at the two of them, holding out my hand for the both of them to take. They're such beautiful little girls; of course they are. Good looks must run in the family.

"Hi, Kim," Jenn gushes. She can't be over ten years old and yet I get the feeling that she thinks herself much older. "Are you our tennis instructor?"

"Oh, no," I say. I point to Assistant Coach Shelly in the next court. "Coach Shelly will be getting you guys started. You'll like her. She gives out candy when you win games," I tell them, mock-secretive and the twins exchange appreciative glances.

Jared gives me a wry smile. "Nothing like rotting teeth to get you started on a tennis career."

I shrug. "Every kid deserves some sort of encouragement." He gives me a look I don't understand but Jessie calls my attention away before it can be deciphered.

"Your eyelashes are really long," she says bashfully before flushing and gripping her brother's hand tighter. He gives her a fond look and then gives me a smoldering one.

I grin, fighting my embarrassed blush. "Oh, thank you! It can get really annoying, though. Especially when I have to comb it in the mornings." I shake my head in mock irritation and the girls giggle at my antics. Jared watches the three of us intently, a smile playing on his lips.

"Cameron sisters! Right this way, please!" Coach Shelly calls, surrounded by a group of small children. The girls wave good-bye to me and their brother and run off to the next court, their matching tennis outfits, pink and blue, respectively, bouncing as they skip away. So _cute_.

"I won't be surprised if they burn the tennis courts down," he says thoughtfully, watching as they move a few courts down to join the kiddie group.

"There'll be hell to pay," I smirk. "So, I guess you're, uh, leaving now?"

He turns to me. "Oh, um, actually," he looks shy. "I was going to stay. Er, you don't mind an audience do you?"

I'm surprised. The only audience I have at practice is the team; the girls haven't even seen me in my element, unless they catch the last few minutes of practice when they come to pick me up. "Oh," I start, but am rudely interrupted.

"Hey, bitch."

I turn, bristling. "God, Ned, not now."

Ned Carson smirks at me, strolling forward to take his place in the court opposite mine. "Actually, Narez just told us to switch partners for the last game and get started, so get your ass up here."

I feel Jared radiating waves of disgusted shock and anger from beside me, so I turn to him. His eyes are narrowed in utmost dislike at my opponent and he looks like he's about to punch a hole through Ned's slight frame. I sigh. "You... might want to take a seat for this one, if you're staying. Things are about to get intense," I warn him.

He gives me a softened, confused look, but slouches off to the benches, shooting another repulsed glance at Ned. Ned raises his brow at me, his eyes moving from me to Jared.

"Fuck you, Ned," I burst out, striding forward. "Seriously, can't you stop being a jackass for one second of your life?"

"You inspire it in me, lovely," he sneers and I grimace.

"The stakes?" I ask, tired of his shit.

He considers. He smiles evilly. "_Revolver_."

My eyes widen. "No. Hell no. I just completed my _Beatles_ collection."

"Are you a _pussy_, Connweller?" he goads, and I stiffen.

"Jeez. Fine, asshole."

"And you?"

"_The Queen is Dead_," I reply almost immediately.

He laughs derisively. "That didn't take you long at all."

I peruse my nails, indifferent. "I had to think of _something_ beforehand since I _knew_ I'd kick your sorry ass today," and he stiffens in anger at that.

"Whatever, bitch. You're about to eat your words." He readies himself.

"Bring it, fucker," I grin, awaiting his serve, racket firmly gripped between my hands.

I forget that Jared is on the sidelines, watching me behave like a neanderthal. Tennis brings out both the best and worst in me.

The next twenty minutes are the most tiring and hateful of my entire life. I will not lose my _Revolver_ record to that son of a bitch. I just got that shit two months ago and he _knows_ that.

I'm going home with a new _Smiths_ album, however.

I hear Lila join Jared on the sidelines some time in. They make hasty introductions and I can feel her curious stare on my form as I play. Probably wondering what my 'long time crush' is doing here.

"Are they always so rambunctious?" I hear him ask her and I smile inwardly.

"Oh, yes. Kim's very serious about her music and her tennis," she replies confidentially.

I'm distracted by Ned making a concentrated effort to send me flying to the ground. I sneer at him.

"Eat my cock!" he yells.

"Suck my tits!" I counter, serving with venom.

"Fuck you!"

"Bite me, asshole!" There's a choking noise over by the benches and the sound of laughter, but I don't question it. Lila leaves shortly after, claiming homework.

Sweat pours down my face in rivulets. My muscles clench, my calves burn, my arms ache, but I crouch in my stance, watching through narrowed eyes as Ned makes his last serve. If I win this...I get an album. If I lose...I don't even want to think about that.

His serve shoots so far to the left, I am stunned for just a moment. Then, I whir into action.

Pumping my legs into motion, I sprint towards the ball, stretching my racket out, just enough to-

I send the ball flying back across the net, just as I connect with the ground.

Jared is by me in a second, lifting my fallen frame into his arms.

"Kim! _Kim!_ Are you ok?"

My shoulders shake. I'm laughing.

"I'm perfect," I tell Jared. I turn to Ned who looks murderous, having missed my returned rally. "You hear that, fucker? I'm perfect." I point my racket in his direction. "You better bring me that record on Monday or I'll murder your pathetic ass."

He stomps off in a fury and I laugh in delight. I hadn't won the last two games between us. It's good to be back.

"Kim, your knee is bleeding," Jared interrupts my happy thoughts, his voice shaking. His eyes are squeezed shut, hands vibrating violently. "God, it's bleeding."

I watch him, curious. "You don't like blood?" I guess.

He opens his eyes and I feel consumed by his gaze. A blush works it's way onto my cheeks. I've never been so near to him. He has a ring of silver around his pupils that I've never noticed before. It's strangely beautiful.

"No, it's not that...it's just...you're _hurt_," he stutters. "I hate seeing you hurt," he confesses, like it's a sin.

"It's ok. I'll be fine," I say timidly, feeling less boisterous since my tennis high is over. "Um, let me just-"

I stand up carefully, wobbling precariously, and Jared catches me in his arms. His warm, muscled arms.

"Erm," I squirm. "I'm fine. I'll be fine. Promise."

He lets go of me slowly, almost as though he is unwilling. "Oh. Ok."

At the benches, I carefully bandage my knee with my emergency first aid kit under the watchful, hovering gaze of a certain boy. He helps me to my feet once I'm done and I smile gratefully, vocalizing my thanks.

He stuffs his hands into his pockets. "You're an amazing tennis player. Seriously talented," he adds, looking a little reverent.

"That's sweet of you," I smile. "I love it a lot so that means so much." He bows his head, his lips smiling.

"Did you need a ride or anything?" He asks, hopeful.

"Oh, no, I brought my mom's car today," I say awkwardly, picking at my fresh bandage. "Uh, I should probably go..."

"Oh, yeah, of course. I'll walk you. Jessie and Jenn will probably be out soon too."

We walk in relative silence. Once in a while he comments on the nature of Ned and I's relationship.

I used to have a crush on Ned, mainly because I liked the way he played tennis. But that was eighth grade and, not long after, I learned he was an insufferable asshole. So no developments there. In another world, the two of us might have gotten along, what with our twin passions for oldies music and tennis. I think Ned always hated me, though. Probably because I challenged him on the court. It's funny how the same thing can attract one person and repulse another, huh?

"Thanks for walking me, Jared," I say, once we've reached my car. I turn to face him and seeing his wholesome good looks, his striking smile, the words burst from me. "You know, you're a good guy." It's a revelation. He _is_. Not just my fantasies projected on him, unfairly. He's _good_.

His smile widens to that familiar beam and I smile back. Suddenly, my smile fades, and a horrified blush takes its place.

"Um, listen, Jared," I start, awkward. "About the...uh...history notes. I mean, the spiral...incident..." I see a certain twitch of Jared's lips and I color further. "It's not what you think," I rush out in a breath.

He gives me a long thoughtful look. He shrugs. "Oh. Sure."

I stare at him. Slightly unsatisfied, I murmur a goodbye and clamber into my car.

Talk about embarrassing circumstances.

And why did it seem like he didn't believe me?

Probably because evidence points to the contrary.

I sigh as I gun my engine. Jared watches me from outside with a mischievous little grin, a teasing glint in his eyes. He waves joyfully. I wave back uncomfortably.

My life _sucks_.


	6. Chapter 6

I whistle as I walk, a pleasant smile on my lips, my hair billowing just slightly in the wind. It's a lovely evening, the stars and the moon are out, and the sky is a light shade of navy, just turning into a midnight blue color. I sigh in delight.

There's something about spending the entirety of my day at Al's that just inexplicably makes me happy. The smell of those old records…listening to them on the trial players they have around the shop…watching people who appreciate it as much as I sway to the beautiful music…

I tuck my new records further under my arm and burrow into my cargo jacket. It's already the start of March, and yet, it's so chilly. What's up with that?

I turn my thoughts towards better things. My birthday is coming up. A subconscious smile makes its way across my lips, but falters. My birthday…pleasant memories don't surround my birthday...

Before my brain can delve into that line of unpleasant thought, I notice a dark figure pacing furiously on the sidewalk in front of my house. I come to a stop, wary.

"…fuck, dude, I don't know where she is. Nobody's at home- her mom's off somewhere and I-I think she has a brother and he isn't there either. Fucking hell, where could she _be_?" The man's voice is on the verge of tears.

I blink at this. What the fuck?

"I don't know, fucking _shit_, I don't _know_," he says, sounding tortured, running a hand through his hair. I notice the phone attached to his ear. His voice turns vicious. "This is all your fucking fault, Paul, I would know where she was if you hadn't stopped me from going to Port-" He stops when the voice on the other line speaks up and I am bewildered.

Paul?

_Jared?_

He speaks up again, voice trembling with emotion, and yet firm. "We need to go look. We need to look for her _now_. I can't be everywhere at once, you have to help me. Ask Sam to-" The voice speaks up again and Jared suddenly ripples before my very eyes, looking furious.

"No, I will not fucking _calm down_!" he yells suddenly, and I am so startled by this, I take a step back and accidentally snap a fallen twig under my foot. Jared whips his head around, phone still glued to his ear, and sees me. His body sags. He drops the phone.

A second later, he's right beside me. I gasp raggedly. He grasps my upper arms in his warm hands and expels a breath. "_Kim_," he says, so full of relief that I'm stunned.

I stare at him, his head bent, eyes shut in pure relief. His silky hair is almost brushing my forehead as he breathes deeply, his whole frame moving up and down.

He has beautiful, thick lashes, I notice.

He raises his head to meet my shocked gaze. There's a moment of silence between us in which no one says anything. We stare at each other, something strange and foreign settling between us.

"Where were you? And why are you walking?" he asks after a few beats.

I swallow roughly. "Port Angeles…and, um, I had to drop my car off at my mom's work place and it's…not too far from here…so…" There's an uncomfortable pause, because we both can't ignore what I just heard.

_Why does he care so much?_

"Oh," he says finally. He clears his throat and releases my arms, and I immediately miss the warmth. He straightens. "Did you eat dinner yet?" he asks, worried.

I adjust the records under my arm. "Er, not yet, no."

He gives me an unfathomable look. "Do you want to? With me?"

My eyes flicker upwards to meet his. Standing so close to him, I realize just how much he towers over me. And I'm a relatively tall girl.

He looks so sweet, standing there, bathed in the orange glow of the streetlamps, looking hopeful, nervous and still a bit relieved all rolled into one. My gaze softens. This is all sorts of weird, but I can't ignore the fact that Jared is truly...a nice person.

"Sure, why not," I agree, and, I swear, someone could take a picture and frame the smile that erupts onto his features and sell it for millions.

"Let me just...put these inside," I say, gesturing to my records.

"Oh, sure, of course," Jared says hastily, taking a step back to allow me to walk past him. I hesitate.

"Er...did you want to step inside to wait?" I ask.

Jared looks all sorts of happy but he falters just a bit. "Actually, I should probably...er...call Paul back..." He stoops to pick up his fallen cell.

"Right," I nod, brushing past him. He stiffens as my shoulder just caresses his arm.

"Take your time. I'll be waiting," he says suddenly, as though he needs me to know, as I unlock my door and step inside.

I pause. Just for a moment.

"Ok."

* * *

I thought we would have absolutely nothing to talk about.

I was wrong.

I was right about one thing, however. Jared is certainly charming.

Not only is he kind and gentle and keeps the conversation flowing between us, he gives me the impression that I'm saying the most interesting things when, really, I'm just being terribly boring. His ease makes me feel comfortable enough to speak without obscenely stuttering, either.

Also, as it turns out, he is the worst comedian.

"Oh, here's another one," Jared starts again as the waiter places our respective pasta dishes in front of us. We're sitting at River's Edge Restaurant, seated across from each other, and the evening crowd is bustling around us.

"Oh, God," I groan and Jared grins boyishly.

"Why was six afraid of seven?"

I stare at him. "You're joking."

"I am, actually."

"No, I mean, you're _literally_ joking. There isn't a single person on the planet who hasn't heard that one!"

"My sisters didn't seem to have heard it when I told them a few nights back," he says proudly. I take a sip of my water.

"First of all, they're like _nine_. How'd they react?" I ask skeptically.

"Got angry and told me to get some new jokes," he replies, shaking his head in mock-disappointment. I laugh loudly.

I don't know whether it makes me happy to discover Jared's flaws and quirks. Slowly, yet surely, this glass cage I've placed him in is disintegrating. It's unnerving, and I'm nervous to see the result.

He tells the worst jokes known to mankind. He has a surprisingly strange laugh, something I hadn't really known before. It's a bit on the girly side, but, weirdly enough, I find myself attracted to it. Strange, no?

He isn't the insufferable asshole I secretly expected him to be, all these years; he's a little normal, a little more approachable. As it is, however, he's still completely out of my league, even for friendship. He's still disgustingly perfect, and the little flaws only seem to enhance his appeal, at least in my eyes. It irritates me.

"So, is that it then? Your two sisters, your parents and you?"

"Yep. And you have a brother...and...your mom..." he fades off at the end, badly masking his curiosity.

"Yeah," I say, twirling some pasta onto my fork. "My dad passed away a few years ago."

His expression crumbles. "God, Kim, I'm so sorry."

"It's fine," I tell him truthfully. I swallow my bite of food. "I barely saw him, so it's fine."

He watches me carefully. "You're allowed to be sad, you know. You don't have to be so brave." I scoff at that. "Really. You can be sad."

But I'm _not_.

"I'm fine," I repeat monotonously. I look at him and grin brightly. "So your sisters are nine? I'll bet you have plenty of horror stories."

He pauses, unsure, for a moment, before indulging me and delving into some of the funnier stories in the Cameron household.

He's adorable. I hate this. I hate it because, he can't do this to me. He can't maneuver his way into my life, without warning, and start teasing my heartstrings. His handsome face lights up as he speaks, but it's nothing, nothing compared to the expression on his face as _I_ speak, as I laugh. Like I'm a baby just learning to walk, his fascination is absurdly visible.

He really is a bad joker, though.

"You'll like this one," he says to me as he pays the bill; we had fought over it for a while, since I felt uncomfortable having him pay as though this were some sort of date or something, but he was ridiculously stubborn. He had won, mainly because I angrily declared that I would pay next time. He looked absurdly joyful at that.

"Or perhaps the leprechaun next door will offer us a pot of gold, as that seems much more likely," I say airily.

He blinks at me. He barks out a laugh. "You're funny."

"Actually, I'm just weird," I counter, taking a last sip of my water before standing up. "There's a difference."

"Normal is overrated," he says, rising to join me, and we share a smile.

* * *

The walk home is peaceful. Suddenly, we've succumbed to this comfortable feeling between us and I smile, tilting my head back towards the moon. The sky is clear and lovely and clouds brush the crescent moon with a delicate splendor.

"They write songs about nights like these," I say, feeling a bit whimsical and Jared smiles down at me fondly.

His steps are sure and confident as opposed to my cautious strides, and even though I struggle to keep up with him, I can tell he's slowing down for my benefit.

"You know, I think you're the first person to hate my jokes. Everyone loves them, usually," he says to me.

I snort. "They were probably too drunk to hear what you were saying." I pause, mortified, a nervous laugh building up in my throat, and I cover my face with one hand. "OhmyGod, I'm sorry, I'm being so mean-"

"No, you're good. You're probably right," Jared laughs his cute little laugh, looking at me like I'm the brightest star in the midnight sky, full of awe. I blush and tuck some hair behind my ear.

"Sorry, anyway," I say and the words are quiet, lost to the wind. I think he hears them, though, because his lips curve upwards just a bit.

We pass a large stucco house. It's beautiful and delicate in structure; it's in the same neighborhood as Mary's place. It seems familiar.

"Who lives here again?" I ask curiously.

"Er- Alison. Alison Menota." Suddenly, he stops speaking and looks as though he regrets saying anything at all.

Oh.

"Isn't she your girlfriend?" I ask, fiddling with a thread on my jacket.

He stops walking. I stop too, looking back at him, confused.

His face is grim.

"No. Just- _no_. No, she's not my girlfriend."

I stare at him. "Oh."

"She and I...we were done a long time ago."

"Um."

"It's history. I don't like her at all, I mean- we never even properly dated or anything." He looks like he regrets saying that too, by the way he squeezes his eyes shut. I blush at the implications of that statement. He takes a deep shuddering breath. "I'm single."

"...Oh."

He opens his eyes, fixing his gaze upon me. I suddenly feel very much exposed. "I'm single," he repeats lowly.

"Oh. Ok."

Jared Cameron is single.

I don't know what this piece of information should mean to me.

* * *

The week begins with no certain gusto. My friends are now accustomed to seeing Jared appear beside me at strange times or walking me to class even when _I'm_ not used to it yet.

It's still weird. Jared is _Jared_.

_Popular;_ well arguably so now, since he seems to have given up his friends in favor of that Paul creep. Although, Paul and he could be their own social group and would still be respected and venerable in the halls of our high school.

Anyway, he's popular. Good-looking. Funny, if sometimes stupidly so, and really really charismatic.

Popular, good-looking kids don't hang around me. I'm weird, quiet, and an outsider. _Ignored_.

What's he doing spending his time hanging around me when he could be dangling beautiful girls off of his arms or...or...hanging out with people as attractive as he?

Not that I consider him a ladies' man. I'm not delusional enough to place him in the category of player, all though he's had his fair share of women. But losing his virginity the week before freshman year to a senior in high school, if the rumors had been accurate, doesn't exactly scream _innocent_.

I shut down that line of thought, immediately. I should know better, especially now, than to judge someone based on such superficiality.

It's Wednesday afternoon and I'm walking outside the school towards Chris' car, already clad in my tennis skirt and tank for practice. I sigh, draping my sports bag over my shoulder, crossing my arms, and leaning against the car, tapping my foot impatiently. She's _late_.

Someone calls my name and I turn my head. It's Jared. He approaches me, one hand stuffed deep into his jeans pocket, the other holding up the strap of his backpack on his shoulder. He's looking at me in that strange way again; his gaze moves up and down my frame and he swallows convulsively, eyes wide.

"Uh, you have practice?" he asks, sounding a little breathless, looking a little dazed. I shift under his gaze.

"Yeah." He comes to a stop right in front of where I'm leaning against Chris' vehicle and I peer up at him through my lashes. "Did you have a good day?"

He beams at me. "Yeah, it was pretty decent. My art teacher hung my project up in the teacher's lounge. I think they might enter it into a contest."

My eyes widen. "That's incredible. You're in art?"

"AP Art," he says, nodding. I know the fact that I'm beyond impressed is visible on my face and Jared's smile widens. "I can show you sometime?" He phrases it like a question.

I beam, nodding. "Yeah, sure, that'd be pretty cool."

A distraction in the form of a body of students leaving the school breaks us out of our little bubble and I see Jared's popular ex-friends horseplaying their way to their cars. They halt upon seeing Jared and I, me leaning against the car, Jared standing above me, as though trapping me. I flush as I wonder what we look like to them. Evan Isaacs, a boy in our History class, looks between us curiously.

"Hey, Jared," Trey Verner calls out. Jared nods at him, indifferent. Trey looks at me and then exchanges a glance with Evan. "I really like your skirt, Connweller."

I feel Jared grow rigid beside me, hands curling into fists. I flush because I've never been in the spotlight before and I know the only reason I'm here is because of the aforementioned boy standing before me.

"Shut the fuck up, Trey," Jared growls lowly and Trey's eyes flicker to him.

I hate when popular guys think they can walk all over us quiet girls.

"You _would_ like it, wouldn't you, fuckface," I say under my breath, but I'm pretty sure Jared hears somehow because he runs a hand over the amused smirk suddenly curling at his lips.

Before anyone can speak, however, Chris comes bursting out of the school.

"I'msosorryI'mlateKim-" she explodes upon seeing me, then stops, glancing about warily at our audience. "Um...hello...?" The group of popular kids leave, looking back at Jared's intimidating form between short intervals, muttering amongst themselves.

"No time for pleasantries," I say brusquely, beckoning her forward. "The court awaits." I turn to Jared with a playful salute. "On that possibly rude note, I bid you adieu, good sir."

He looks terribly amused, but plays along, and my heart swells just the tiny bit at that. "Farewell, my fair lady," he bows mockingly.

I laugh, delighted, and clamber into Chris' car as she revs the engine. Tennis awaits.

* * *

"But it's _Thursday_!" I whine pathetically as the girls drag me out. We had gathered at Chris' place to get some homework done but none of us seemed to be in the working mood.

"So _what_," Linda groans, irritated with me, no doubt. "If the popular kids can have a party at Isaacs' place on a weekday, we can have our own party. Plus, tomorrow's your birthday. What's a better way to celebrate the day you came into this world than with a fantastic hangover?" I roll my eyes.

We're giggling over something or the other when we pass a large house, lit up and blaring with loud music. Ah. The party.

There are a few drunk stragglers lingering outside the house and a couple that's making out on the grass and I grimace. I feel Mary gagging in disgust from behind me.

"Jared?"

I whip my head around. Jared Cameron stands on the porch with two other kids, looking extremely bored and irritated, a cliche red solo cup in his hands. His jaw drops when he sees our group, namely, me.

"_Kim_? ...Uh, I mean, hey Linda," he says, bashfully acknowledging the fact that she had been the one to call out to him.

Far from offended, she looks amused.

"Were you guys coming to the party?" he asks questioningly and we all share amused glances. Chris and I exchange smirks as Mary giggles and Linda shakes her head, laughingly.

"Nah. Not really our scene." She wrinkles her nose as a senior stumbles past, piss drunk. "Did you want to join us, instead? We're cooler," she asks Jared invitingly and my jaw drops at that.

I feel Jared's gaze on the side of my face and I try and fail not to blush. "Sure. Why not?"

He shoves his cup into some sophomore's hands ("Hey! Watch it, dude!") and approaches us lazily. Soon, the five of us are off.

I don't really understand how it happens, but suddenly, Jared and I are the ones leading the group, the girls talking and laughing behind us.

"They seem cool," he says, gesturing to the three behind us.

"They're alright as far as friends go," I agree. I clear my throat. "So...enjoying the party?"

"Boring as fuck," Jared disagrees. I laugh, surprised, and he grins at me. "Grinding bodies and terrible music. I wasn't even going to go but was roped into it; Paul had some business..."

I turn to him, startled. "Oh. Do you need to wait for him...?"

"He'll understand," he says quickly but I feel as though I'm missing something. _Understand what?_ "Anyway, you guys seem much more classy; I thought I was going to have to start playing chaperone back there after I saw the state of some of those idiots."

"Oh, adolescence," I sigh. I shoot him a sly look. "But I think you'll find we're not too far off from that mark either."

Jared raises a brow, but I say no more.

We find a spot in the woods, somewhat near civilization, and we take a seat in a circle. I'm sitting between Chris and Jared.

"Presenting, the life of the party!" Mary announces, and I watch the hilarious expression on Jared's face as Mary pulls out a bottle of tequila from her bag. The girls cheer in enthusiasm and I laugh too because it's just infectious.

"Definitely wasn't expecting that," Jared murmurs to me when Chris and Linda fight over who gets to open the bottle. His warm breath tickles the hair near my ear and I blush.

"We're rebellious teenagers too," I smile up at him and he seems a little transfixed on the light blush that colors my cheeks, the red of my lips from worrying it.

"I think," Linda says loudly, breaking us out of our trance. I move away, blushing, "that _Kim_ should have the first drink, since she's the birthday girl."

The girls whoop in agreement and Jared looks at me, shocked. "It's your _birthday_?"

"Tomorrow," I correct. I turn to Linda. "Hand it over, then. Tonight, I deserve it."

Amidst cheers and encouraging chants, I take a large gulp, making a face once I'm done as it burns my throat and heats my insides. I pass it off to Jared, who grins at me before taking a large sip of his own, his Adam's apple bobbing with his swallows, looking all sorts of attractive. He resurfaces, his eyes just a bit brighter, the only sign that this is affecting him at all.

The bottle makes it's way around the circle and we spend the time playing games and telling stories.

"Best memory?" Linda asks Chris as she passes the bottle her way. Chris frowns.

"Shit, that's hard. Um... I'm going to say...breaking into that club in Port Angeles sophomore year and getting carried out by that hot bouncer." She smirks as the girls and I laugh at the memory, takes a swig, and then passes the bottle to me. "Same question, Chicken."

I contemplate. I'm slightly tipsy, and so the truth comes out when it usually might not have. "My dad cheering for me in the fifth grade Little League Math Tournament." I take a drink, ignoring the fact that everyone around me has just stiffened.

There's a pause.

"Kim..." Chris says warily, but I wave her away.

"I'm fine, Chris. Really."

This is why I hate my birthday. My dad passed away just the day before. Five years ago _today_. My birthday has always been...melancholic in nature.

I feel a large, warm pressure on my back, and realize that it's Jared's hand. He shoots me a concerned look and I smile back, attempting reassurance.

Chris takes the bottle back from me. "To Kim's father. May he rest in peace on this terrible day when he was taken from this world."

"Hear, hear," Linda says, a little obliterated, swaying forward to grab the bottle and taking a large gulp. That marks the end of the alcohol.

We get up to leave, most of us swaying slightly. I watch Mary spin Linda in a circle, mock-dancing and I smile with a serene sort of happiness.

"Would you mind if I dropped you home?" Jared murmurs to me and I dart a quick look at his handsome face, slightly aglow in the moonlight.

"Not at all," I agree and the two of us depart after a round of farewells.

* * *

"I'm a little drunk," I say matter-of-factly. Jared chuckles from beside me.

"Yes, you are."

"I'm usually not," I say. I widen my eyes for emphasis and turn to him, noticing his amused expression. "No, really. I don't like being vulnerable. So I never get drunk."

His eyes soften. "You're safe with me," he says so quietly, I almost miss it.

It makes me question everything, again.

"Jared," I sigh, suddenly. "What are we doing here?"

"What?" he asks, turning to look at me, brows furrowing. "What do you mean?"

"I mean- why are you talking to me? What's...why are we-_you_ here? Are we friends? And if we are, _why_?" I take a deep breath. "I just want some answers."

He swallows and looks away, his strong side profile just visible to me. "I don't have answer for you...just yet." He turns to look at me. "But...I need you to know that I care about you. A_ lot_." His gaze is heated.

And that sets me over the edge.

"Alright, look, Jared. I'm just gonna come out and say it. I worshiped your existence for three years of my life and you never gave me the time of day." His eyes widen and his mouth drops open. I know it's the liquid courage that's making me say this but I can't seem to stop. "But you see, I never wanted you to. That's why...that's why I'm confused."

He's staring at me like he's never seen anything like me before. I can almost see the thought process in his eyes. "So you... you _did_...you liked...me?" and I remember history notes and Mrs. Jared Cameron doodles. Emotions flitter across his face.

Confusion. Disbelief. Shock. _Elation_.

"Er," I scratch just behind my ear and then stumble over the sidewalk, a painful reminder that I'm slightly drunk. Jared catches my arm gently and sets me straight, still looking all kinds of deliriously happy. Then he looks morose.

"God, I'm such an idiot, Kim," he says in a rush. "I didn't mean to not notice you...I was stupid. So fucking stupid. You're _amazing_," he says suddenly, earnestly and if I weren't so tipsy, I might've blushed. "I wish...I wish things had been different. You deserve better." He finished, ducking his head and looking so so fucking sad that I bark out a laugh.

He doesn't need to be sad that I liked him. Because I didn't, not really.

"Hey," I say, amused. I snap my fingers near his face. "Hey, Jared, it's fine. I didn't like you like that." He looks up, confusion in his gaze. "I mean," I ramble on, "don't you think I might've made some sort of-of effort? Like...I was never creepy, so you don't have to worry about that," I pat his shoulder reassuringly, but he looks anything but reassured; if anything, he looks more bewildered. "Mostly I just wrote your name in my margins and...sometimes I watched you with your friends cause you were so-" I hiccup "-so nice and stuff."

"Wait, Kim," Jared says, pulling my hand back so that I stumble to a stop. We're standing in the middle of the road now, the both of us bathed in an orange glow. "What did you mean that...you didn't like me like that?"

Er.

"Er," I say. "I mean...I didn't...like you...as a person..." I attempt. I shake my head. "No, that doesn't sound right. I didn't know you, so... I just...liked the idea of you...or...or..." Jared is looking just slightly more devastated with every word I say but I can't seem to stop. "I liked that you were cute and nice and so I chose you to-to crush on and what's-it."

He releases my hand and runs his own through his hair. He looks away. "Fuck," he says eventually, shakily.

"Jared," I say, catching his arm. He turns to look at me, and the pure miserable look in his eyes surprises me. I waver in place. "You-you can hate me, if you want," I tell him quietly. "I'm just like every other girl- projecting my fantasies on the popular kid...you can hate me."

His expression destroys me, but his words give me hope. "I could never hate you, Kim," he says softly and, slowly, brings me into an embrace.

"Aw," I coo, holding him to me, placing my head on his broad, warm chest. His body warmth and simultaneous softness and hardness is inspiring. "Where've you been all my life?"

I feel him place a kiss on top of my head. My whole body floods with warmth.

"I could ask you the same thing."


	7. Chapter 7

Well, Linda was right.

I wake up on Friday morning with a _killer_ headache.

Although, that could be because of the little monster jumping up a storm on my bed.

"Wake up, wake up, Kimmy!" Kevin yells as he bounces, looking like Mr. Hyde when he tramples his victims. I groan and throw an arm over my eyes. It doesn't even look like morning yet, the sky a dreary gray.

"Why are you waking me up so early, Kev?" I moan, turning on my side as he continues his irritating bounce-a-thon.

"It's not early. It's seven o'clock!"

I scramble out of my sheets immediately. "_What?!_"

"Yay!" Kevin shouts propelling himself into my arms. "Happy Birthday, Kim!"

I am momentarily distracted. "Aw, thank you Kev! Now where's my present?" He laughs at my mock impatient expression, squirms out of my arms, and bounds out of the room.

Raising my brows after him, I shake my head, amused. I stand up and stretch, surveying my surroundings.

Hoorah. The day of my birth.

It's fucking raining outside. On my birthday. Now, don't get me wrong. I do enjoy a bit of rain; it's serves as poetic inspiration. But really? On my _birthday_? Why is God or Taha Aki or whomever crying on my birthday? I sigh, irritated, and trudge to the window to stare at the oatmeal colored sky. As my eyes rove over the houses across the street, I think back to last night.

_I worshiped your existence for three years of my life and you never gave me the time of day._

My heart stops and I choke on my saliva, whirling away from the window.

Shit. Did I really say that? Fuck, what must he think of me?

I slap a hand to my forehead, but before I can inflict any more self-pain, Kevin runs in, dragging my mother in by the hand. I am sufficiently distracted.

"Mom, Kim's awake!"

"Happy Birthday, beautiful girl," she crows, coming forward to embrace me. She looks lovely in a blue knit wrap dress and a pretty pair of earrings. Her eyes, however, are swollen, and I fathom that she must have cried herself to sleep last night over dad. The idea is mood-dampening and I curse, for the millionth time, the fact that today, of all days, we are forced to celebrate my birthday.

"Thanks, mom," I grin sheepishly and allow the two of them to tug me from the room.

The morning is lovely, with the exception of the disgusting weather. Mom shoves a steaming mug of vanilla bean coffee into my hands and I sit patiently as mom directs Kevin to bring out a plate of chocolate chip pancakes and syrup and place it in front of me. I thank him enthusiastically and he joins me, both of us digging into the delicious goodness.

Once we're done, Mom slides an envelope across the table and I know it's money to celebrate my birthday. Eyes watering, just slightly, I pull her into an embrace and even fake a good show of shocked joy when Kevin brings me his usual candle-lit cupcake.

Birthdays used to be really nice. I appreciate every single effort mom and Kevin put into this day, but there's always that small sad undertone to the event. Mom never smiles so bright anymore and she never wakes me up at midnight to celebrate the way we used to, even when dad wasn't around because of work.

As we team up to clear the table and then Mom and Kev push me up the stairs to get ready, I consider my options concerning last night's fuck up.

I have to apologize to Jared. I don't want him to be mad at me. He's grown on me.

I pause in the washing of my hair, shampoo suds slipping into my eyes as I come to this epiphany.

Jared…has grown on me. I don't want him out of my life.

Slowly, I resume my scrubbing, building up in vigor as the thought encompasses me.

_He's my friend._

I wash up and dry off, wrapping myself in my thin, ratty robe. The doorbell rings but I pay it no heed, drying my hair with a towel and walking around my room in search of my blow dryer.

A knock on my door, however, is not ignorable. "Come in," I say through the door. The door creaks open.

I turn. "Shit!" I cry out, jumping in fright. My three best friends enter, looking at me, amused.

"Oh, look, she's ready for us," Mary says, grinning.

"You naked under that?" Linda asks, wiggling her brows.

I shoot them all disgusted looks. "What are you three doing here?"

"Wow, that's enthusiasm," Chris takes note. "Speaking of which, Happy Birthday to you."

"Happy Birthday," the other two echo, grinning and I can't help the smile on my face.

"Thanks, guys," I say softly.

"Gifting time," Mary cheers, clapping her hands together, and I notice the pretty parcels in their hands.

"Oh, no," I begin.

"Oh, shut up," Linda says irritably. "Seriously, why are you always complaining about gifts?"

I make a face but blush heavily when Mary hands me her gift and the opening of presents begins.

I receive a homemade, yellow-iced cake from Mary, a pretty dark red silk dress from Linda and a book on the history of _The Beatles_ from Chris. I am thanking them profusely by the time I'm through and they hush me, telling me to stop being so weird with them.

"Ok, ok, one more and that's it, Chicken," Chris says, grinning. She leaves the room, returning with a large box. "It's from all of us."

Giving them a wary look, I rip the parcel open.

No.

They _didn't_.

Sitting inside the box is a spanking brand new, beautiful saxophone.

"Guys," I say hoarsely. "This is-"

"Don't say too much," Mary says amused.

I raise my gaze to her, eyes shining. "I was going to say fucking amazing, actually."

They burst into laughter and I join in, running my fingers over the brass surface of the beautiful instrument.

"I know you're quitting the Band," Chris speaks as I stare at my gift, dazed. "But this is for you. To play for fun. You're an amazing player and you shouldn't stop." She exchanges glances with the other girls. "And on that note- check underneath the sax."

I give them a look but do so, lifting the instrument carefully. There, hidden beneath the brass body of the saxophone is-

"Oh, God, guys," I breathe, lifting out the four laminated tickets. "A jazz club? Are you serious?"

"We're going to Port Angeles tonight!" Linda whoops and nothing in the world could make this moment any better, surrounded by amazing people whom I love more than anything.

* * *

The girls try to force me into a dress to school, but I reason that they're already forcing me into one this evening, so school time should go unpunished. They relent reluctantly.

Jared isn't in school in the morning. He isn't waiting by my locker as I'm accustomed to. He isn't waiting to walk me to class once Biology is over, or English and Spanish after that. I'm a little worried.

I hope I'm being self-centered. I really hope I'm being self-centered when I think that it's about me. I _really_ hope it's not about me.

I meet the girls at the library during lunch period, since our tradition is to allow me the solidarity of a quiet lunch as opposed to the ruckus that is the cafeteria on my birthday.

We set up our little picnic, far from the eyes of our disgustingly strict librarian and feast on pizza and Mary's cake.

I'm laughing a little obnoxiously at something Mary has said when the library doors fly open, banging against the walls, making many a nerd jump in fright.

Jared strides into the library, looking around anxiously. His eyes settle on me. He relaxes visibly. "Kim."

I blink slowly before blushing to the roots of my hair.

He approaches our table gracefully. There's an awkward pause. "Why aren't you guys at lunch?" he asks finally.

Chris gestures to our makeshift picnic. "We _are_ at lunch. Just not in the cafeteria." She looks around, eyes falling on me and my blush. She scowls. "Um, I'm going to go rent that one book," she trails off.

Mary jumps up. "Yeah, I'll come too. What about you, Linda?"

Linda is seemingly engrossed in watching Jared watch me but reacts when Mary slaps her arm. "_Ow!_ Oh, uh, yeah, I'll just go too…"

The three of them scurry off and I scowl at their backs.

Very subtle.

Idiots.

I direct my gaze back to Jared to find him watching my carefully. I smile, apprehensive. "Hey, Jared. What's up?"

His expression softens and he takes the seat in front of me. "Nothing much. I was a little worried when I saw you weren't in the cafeteria…I mean…I thought maybe…" he colors. "Well, anyway, Happy Birthday," he says, placing something large and flat in front of me.

I stare down at it.

I look up at him, only to see him watching me expectantly.

"You…got me a gift?" I ask in shock. He got me a _gift_.

Jared got me a birthday gift.

Great, now I sound like a fan-girl.

He smiles at me. "Yeah. I…asked around and got some ideas and…well there it is. I really hope you like it," he adds. His eyes widen, "Not that I blame you if you don't. I mean, if you hate it, I can get you something else-"

I hold up my hand. "Jared. I'm not going to hate it. I already know I'm going to love it because it's the thought that counts. Also it's a gift and gifts are awesome." He grins appreciatively, looking a little relieved.

I pull the neatly wrapped item towards me and carefully peel off the tape, making an effort not to tear the wrapping paper because _Jared got me this gift_. Am I in an alternate universe where Jared isn't fantastic and I'm not a loser?

I slowly unravel the shiny green paper to reveal-

…

…

…

"…Kim?" I hear Jared ask, tentatively.

I stare.

I stare.

I stare at his fucking gift in my hands.

I stare.

I stare some more.

He didn't. He _didn't_.

I don't understand. I don't understand at all. I have combed every record store I can think of for this exact record and now…it sits here in my hands.

I don't understand how he found it.

"_Pink Floyd_," I speak and my voice squeaks. I look up at Jared, who looks more worried by the minute, my eyes shining. "_The Wall_. How did you-_how_-"

"Oh," Jared runs a hand through his hair. "Yeah, um, I asked Linda and she told me it was your favorite band and that…that you had been scouting around for that specific record for a while…so I went to Port Angeles this morning and did some scouting myself…did I get it wrong? Do you hate it?" he asks worriedly.

I stare at him.

This guy. This fucking amazing guy.

I stand slowly. I make my way around the table.

"Kim?" he asks, confused, watching me approach warily, but that's all that comes out of his mouth because I've thrown myself into his arms.

A choking noise erupts from the boy I hold, my arms wrapped around his neck, face pressed into his shoulder. It's slightly awkward, what with him sitting and me crouching before his chair, but I needed to do it.

If I had any doubt that this amazing guy had any dishonorable intentions towards me, they have evaporated completely. This boy is pure gold.

Slowly, carefully, he wraps his large, muscled arms around me. I can feel his whole frame moving up and down as he breathes heavily and I inhale his heady, delicious boy scent, feeling light-headed.

"No," I choke out. "No, I definitely don't hate it. I love it so, so much. You don't…" I pause and exhale shakily. "You don't know how much this means to me." I laugh a little and squeeze tighter. "So, thank you."

His hand drifts down my back. "You're welcome," he baritones and I'm gone.

Slowly, I disentangle myself. "Seriously, I don't even know how to thank you."

His eyes are closed as I pull away, as if he has just had a sacred experience, and they flutter open, blinking heavily. "Uh..." he says dumbly. He clears his throat. "Another one of those hugs would do just fine," he states hopefully and I laugh, blushing red at that, skipping around the table to take a seat again and stare at my new record.

My new record. Fucking hell.

I hug it to my chest, biting my lip to restrain the, no doubt, psychotic smile threatening to take over my face and glance up at Jared.

He's grinning at me, his eyes soft and pleased at my reaction. "I'm going to be buying you records for the rest of your life, just to see that smile," he tells me matter-of-factly and my heart swells.

I let my hand drift down the cover of the record and I smile at it fondly. "This is _gold_." I look up. "You should come over to my house to listen to it someday."

His expression is comically joyful. "I would... love to."

I stare down at this precious gift and Jared stares at me.

* * *

The slamming of locker doors resonates within my distracted ears. I have Jared's-no-_my_ new record tucked under my arm and I am beaming like a motherfucking firefly.

"Ready?" Linda asks breathlessly, approaching me from behind. I nod at her, looking past her for a moment. I see Jared a few lockers down, at his own, staring at me. When he sees me looking, he grips his locker door so tight, it nearly rips off it's hinges. He tries to cover up his mistake immediately, failing at looking innocent, while my eyebrows climb up my forehead in shock. What the fuck...

"Steroids..." Linda sing-songs next to me and I realize she's seen the whole thing too. Jared's eyes drift to her and I question if he's heard her. But we're a bit too far away, so that's...impossible. I punch her arm.

"Fuck you. Go spread your gossip elsewhere. I'll meet you outside, ok?" She nods, still grinning and turns to leave. I approach Jared and he straightens imperceptibly when he sees me coming, a grin blossoming on his lips.

"Hey, there," I say, with a smile, clutching the straps of my backpack. "Your locker door ok?"

He coughs, looking flustered. "Oh, yeah...just...it was a weak door, anyway."

I nod understandingly. Half the facilities in this school are ancient and in need of replacement. The school doesn't do much to fund the place- choosing to use money on textbook updates and whatnot. Not that I'm complaining. "Are you headed home?"

"Er, yeah. Well, sort of. I'm gonna stop by Sam's with Paul for a bit..."

"What is it you guys do?" I ask curiously. "I've heard all sort of rumors- from druggie gang to secret elite society... er, you don't need to tell me, obviously."

He barks out a laugh. "Nah, it's cool. Um, we sort of protect the Rez, I guess."

I snort out a laugh. "From what, exactly? Squirrels and rabbits?" I guffaw at my own joke, but Jared looks grim.

"There are a lot of dangerous things out there, Kim," he says somberly.

I sober up immediately, remembering my last encounter in the woods. "Yeah, you're right. One time the girls and I were in the woods and there was this huge bear-creature thing! It was so scary."

Jared reacts strangely. He pales and then his hands begin to shake. "_What?_ When was this? Why were you in the woods? Are you hurt? _Did it attack you?_"

I raise a brow. "Jared, chill. I don't think I'd be alive to tell the tale if it attacked me. No, it just brushed past us, bushy gray tail and all."

He calms slightly but grits his teeth at 'bushy gray tail' and mutters something that sounds like "Fucking Paul..."

"So, uh, I just wanted to come by and say 'hi'," I say awkwardly, while Jared fumes. He softens at that.

"Hi," he says, smiling gently at me.

I blush. "Um, yeah, hi."

He shakes himself out of some sort of daze and shuts his mangled locker door. "Actually, I'm really glad you came- I was going to ask if you wanted to hang out sometime this weekend- I think I have to take the twins out somewhere tomorrow but on Sunday?" He looks so damn hopeful.

"Oh, er," I scuff my foot. "I actually have tennis practice for a few hours, Sunday."

He brightens. "Oh, that's ok, I can come watch!"

I laugh despite myself. "You don't want to come watch me play for four hours!" I reason.

He stares at me with an expression that conveys the message, _Yes, yes I really do_. I ignore this.

"We can hangout on Monday," I finish, smiling up at him.

His shoulders droop. "Oh, ok," he says sadly, almost as if he doesn't want to wait that long. I immediately feel terrible.

"Or...w-we can find time to meet up at some point over the weekend," I stutter, brushing a strand of hair from my face.

He brightens. "Cool."

"Cool," I agree, a light blush flooding my cheeks at the way he's looking at me.

His expression melts me. "Happy Birthday, Kim."

I nod. "Yes, it is."

* * *

The person staring back at me in the mirror is a stranger.

Her hair tumbles down just past her shoulders in waves, pinned back stylishly with a jeweled clip. Her eyes are huge and whimsical, a product of eyeliner and shadow making them pop and appear larger than normal. Her lips are a strawberry pink, contrasting beautifully with her tanned skin and rasberry cheeks.

She looks...good.

_I_ look good.

This dress is wondrous. Linda really knows how to shop. The silky material cascades down my body like a whisper, hugging me at my waist, and brushing my knees. The dress ties at my neck, to the side, in a halter-type design and exposes my shoulders and a hint of the sides of my torso. Unlike a typical halter, however, it has a back and is relatively modest.

I smile at my reflection, satisfied. I don't think it's going to get any better than this.

I slip into my only pair of heels, a pair of sparkling black four inches, and attach my only fancy earrings to my earlobes- some pretty teardrops that apparently came from my late grandmother. I route around for my black purse, filling it up with necessities and cash.

Once I'm ready, I make my way downstairs to showcase the finished result to my mother.

However, there's someone waiting on the couch who _definitely_ is not my mom.

"Jared?" I gasp and he turns, elbows on knees.

His jaw drops. His elbows fall off his knees. His eyes are wide, stunned.

He opens his mouth. Then shuts it.

Words don't come out.

Slowly, very slowly, his eyes roam over my dolled up self, taking time to move over every inch of me until I'm left feeling utterly scorched.

His chest rises and falls dramatically and he stands abruptly, still staring at me as though... he's a starving man eying a buffet line or something.

"You-" he rasps. He coughs, staring at me wondrously. "Y-you look-"

"Ah, Kim, there you are, sweetie," Mom greets, strolling in. "I took the liberty of inviting Mr Cameron in. You didn't tell me you had such a handsome friend!"

I cringe at that. "Um, yeah. Mom? Did Chris call yet?"

"They're coming in ten," she says. She beams at Jared who hasn't looked away from me _once_. She notices the nature of his gaze and smirks knowingly at me, causing me to blush. "It was nice meeting you, Jared dear."

Jared snaps his eyes away from me. "O-of course, Mrs. Connweller," he agrees, still sounding a bit disoriented, moving forward to shake her hand. "The pleasure was all mine." He gives her his trademark perfect grin that mom blushes at.

Charmer.

"Kim," he breathes as soon as my mom leaves the room (winking at me as she does, might I add). "You look _incredible_."

I blush. "Flattery will get you everywhere," I joke and he laughs, sounding a bit hysterical. He runs a hand through his hair. Stares at me a few moments more.

"Uh, I didn't come here just to tell you that," he says finally. "I wanted to bring you this."

He slips a thick sheet of paper out of his coat and hands it to me. I give him a questioning look before looking down. My eyes widen.

There, staring up at me, is an absolutely stunning rendition of the night sky that blankets La Push. A few stars dazzle, the moon is a bright crescent upon the page that somehow manages to look simultaneously warm and cold. Dark clouds almost seem to move upon the parchment, beautiful and mysterious.

I can hear him speaking and I decide to tune in, since I'm courteous like that. "...and just, it seemed like you really liked the sky. I mean even when we took walks and stuff, you were always commenting on the night or staring up at the moon. I thought...I just wanted to paint something that would capture your...your admiration for the night and-"

I look up. "You made this?" I ask quietly.

He fidgets. "Yeah."

And for the second time that day, Jared is once again in my embrace.

"You...you have seriously made my day. First the album. Now...this? This...trumps everything. I've never seen anything so beautiful," I confess, pulling away from him and staring down at the sheet with greedy eyes. I'll never be able to stop looking at this.

Jared painted this. For me.

"_I_ have," Jared says quietly and I look up, seeing his smoldering gaze on me. I swallow roughly, realizing suddenly that we're standing extremely close together. I can count all of his dark eyelashes and see the flecks of green in his beautiful eyes...

A car horn breaks us out of our revelry and I whirl around, realizing that it must be Chris and the group. I turn back to him, wary.

He smiles at me lightly. "Have a good time tonight. Be safe." He hesitates before bringing me into a bear hug. I return it enthusiastically. They're starting to become my favorite things. That's _three_ already.

"Thank you," I whisper as I disentangle myself from his embrace. I try to hand him the painting back.

"Oh, no. It's for you," he says, smiling gently.

"Really?" I whisper, surprised and elated.

"Yeah," he whispers back. I smile, hugging it to me.

"I'll treasure it always, then."

As I let Jared leave through the front door, I catch the surprised look my friends send me, including Chris' more than annoyed one.

She doesn't say much on the way to Port Angeles and my mind whirs with the possibilities.

* * *

"Let's dance!" Linda yells over the music. I laugh, tossing back my own drink and joining her on the dance floor for some swing time.

I had taken jazz and tap lessons for a huge chunk of my life, so I'm not completely unfamiliar with the art of dancing. Linda is practically a ballet _genius_, so her grace inspires my own. The two of us are heaps of giggling messes by the time we're done and Mary joins us a moment later, laughing at our antics. The band starts up a fast, upbeat swing song and the three of us dance enthusiastically until our stomachs cramp from laughing so hard.

"Where's Chris?" Mary asks suddenly, looking about.

Linda shrugs, unconcerned. "She was being a bitch all through dinner. This is Kim's day, she shouldn't be playing the Debbie Downer."

I frown. She _had_ been terribly unresponsive during dinner and I wasn't exactly sure why. Perhaps it was time I found out. "Let me go look for her- no, Linda it's ok. I'll find her." I leave my two friends behind in search of Chris.

I find her standing outside the jazz club, her back pressed against the brick, wrapped in a shawl. She looks beautiful in her navy blue dress, a serene expression on her face, her hair brushing her chin in her usual chic bob.

"I knew you'd come for me," she says, smiling sardonically, when she sees me. "That's what best friends do, after all."

I wait for an explanation, but I get none. The faint tunes of the jazz band reach our ears but I push that back. "What's wrong, Chris?" She turns, as if to walk away, but I catch her arm. "_Chris!_"

She pulls her arm out of my grip and faces me, anger marring the lines of her beautiful face. "I don't get it. Why aren't you over the fucking moon right now?" Her voice shakes with repressed emotion.

"What?" I ask, uncomprehending.

"You've only been pining after him for three years, Kim. God, why don't you save the rest of us from our misery and stop playing hard to get!" she yells at me.

I stare at her. _Jared_. "Chris…I can't believe…I can't believe you think that. You think I'm playing hard to get?" She stares at me, eyes hard. "I'm not. God, I'm not. Why can't you see that?"

"You like him," she murmurs in a low voice. "You _like_ him."

I watch her carefully. "I don't know him," I say, truthfully.

"Kim, you doodled his name in your notebooks. You watched him constantly during History, I remember from sophomore year during World History, you got that dreamy look in your eyes when someone mentioned his name-" she stops, breathing hard. "Don't lie to me," she finishes harshly.

I watch as she breathes deeply, recovering from her rant. I give her a few seconds before speaking. "Chris, I want you to hear me out. Jared... was cute. He was charming. And sometimes, when I squinted, I could pretend he was just a bit soulful. That right there is all I saw. An object to admire." I finish and stare at her. She visibly deflates.

"Then…then why is he talking to you? Why is he _pursuing_ you?" she asks doubtfully.

"I _honestly_ don't know," I tell her and begin to chuckle. She joins in a moment later.

"Oh, Kim," she sighs and she swipes a hand over her pretty face. She gives me an apologetic look. "I'm so sorry."

"It's fine," I say casually, and then, because not only do I deserve it after all she's said just now, but it's the only explanation and redemption that will remedy the situation- and it's the only thing that makes _sense_- "Did you…y'know…_like_ Jared?"

Her tan cheeks turn a slight pink. "Yes," she whispers and I nod in acceptance that that's all I'm going to get for now.


	8. Chapter 8

The revelation that Chris, once upon a time, had genuine feelings for Jared is not as shocking as I'd thought it would be.

I'm _surprised_, no doubt. But somewhere in the back of my mind, I realize that many of Chris' reactions have pointed to this truth. I think I've had a slight inkling all along. The idea shames me. I reason with myself that, had I known truly, I wouldn't have pursued my own attraction.

My mother's Saturday Work Luncheon at the Decor office she works at is today. Our family is invited. Clad in a relatively nice cream lace dress, black flats and a pair of black tights, I feel a bit delicate and pretty. Kevin is adorable in his miniature slacks and button down.

My mother sends us packing a little before the luncheon is over, telling us to get a head start. I pull on my red swing coat, dress Kevin in his black peacoat and take his gloved hand in my own.

"Kevin, stop skipping like that, people are going to think you're weird," I scold as Kevin bounces enthusiastically beside me as we walk home. It's the beginning of the middle of March and the air is windy and cool around us.

"People already think I'm weird, so it's ok," Kevin chirps. I burst into laughter at that.

"Same here, little man," I tell him, bumping my fist with his; he does so eagerly. We are such sibling soul-mates. I pause before a secretive smile creeps onto my face. "Normal is overrated."

There's a dull overtone to the day, the sky a grayish blue, and the trees rustling unsettlingly in the breeze. I pull Kevin along, occasionally stopping to point out a pretty bird that might catch our eye or to pick up colorful rocks from the road.

We're passing by a line of swanky suburb homes, a nice area of La Push, when suddenly one of the front doors swings open and _Jared_ comes running out.

I stop in place immediately, dragging Kevin to a stop as well. A few of his rocks tumble to the ground.

"Kim," Jared says, smiling happily as he comes towards us. "What are you guys doing here?"

"Oh," I look down at Kevin who is staring, open mouthed, at the giant before us. "We were just coming back from a luncheon at my mom's work place."

Jared nods understandingly. He looks down at Kevin, before ducking to his level and smiling brightly. "Hey, little man."

I bite the inside of my cheek to hold back my smile. My nickname for Kevin sounds especially sweet coming from Jared's lips.

"Hi. My name's Kevin," Kevin trills. There's a pause. "I want to be as tall as you," he says. Jared guffaws. I smirk.

"Someday," Jared tells him once his chuckles have subsided and they share a smile that makes me want to hug the two of them and never let go.

"What's your name?" Kevin asks, looking adorable and mature with his gelled side part and little suit and peacoat. I beam at him.

"It's Jared. I'm a good friend of Kim's." His eyes dart upwards to meet mine as he says this and my cheeks flood.

_Is he really?_

_He got you a fuck-awesome birthday present. Of course he is._

"Are you coming to have cookies with us?" Kevin asks. "You can come see my new train set, too, if you'd like." My mouth almost drops open. Kevin doesn't easily warm up to people. He's like me in that aspect. Guarded and relatively shy. At first.

I turn towards Jared, smiling slightly. He must be doing something right. Or it's just the Jared charm. No one in the family can resist it.

"Aw, I wish I could, buddy. I'm actually taking Jenn and Jessie out to First Beach for the afternoon." He looks genuinely disappointed that he can't join us, until his face lights up. "Say, why don't you guys come with? We'll make it a party!"

Kevin and I exchange glances. A silent understanding passes between us. "That's really sweet of you, Jared, but we don't want to impose..."

Jared waves the comment away with a grin. "Nonsense. It'll be fun. We can come back and have snacks, too. What do you say?"

I chew my lip. "I'm fine with it if Kevin is," I say softly.

Kevin nods slowly, hiding his face behind our clasped hands. Jared grins at the two of us. He stands up.

"Awesome. I'll get the girls. Why don't you guys step in for a bit?"

_Oh my God, I'm going into Jared Cameron's house,_ I think as Kevin, Jared, and I walk up the curving walkway, eyeing the beautiful two-story, picturesque house with interest. Once upon a time, this house was a mysterious facility which hosted many a party and lived to tell tales of many a dramatic occurrence at said parties.

Kevin keeps a firm grip on my hands, almost to the point of pain. "Ack, ease up on the hand a little, Kev," I whisper in an undertone, and I catch Jared's eyes darting to my fingers, so fast, I can't be sure it happened. Weird. Kevin loosens his grip with a blush.

The house is spotless and beautiful on the inside, somehow modern, yet antique at the same time. The color scheme is green and cream with hints of dark cherry wood and I survey my surroundings appreciatively finally stopping when I notice Jared watching my reaction expectantly. I smile at him. "It's absolutely lovely in here." His face relaxes into a beautiful smile.

"Thanks. All my mom. You guys can take a seat...I'll go get the girls." He leads us over to the sitting room, even helping me out of my coat. I blush. Fucking gentleman.

He darts up the stairs quickly and Kevin immediately turns to me. "He's cool. And tall...like Yao Ming!"

I snort at that. "Indeed."

"He should come to our house sometime. Why haven't you brought him around? Is he your boyfriend? Are you kissing him?"

I flush. "Kevin, _enough_. No and no. And, if you really want, I can bring him around sometime."

Kevin watches me shrewdly. "But is that what _you_ want?"

Such a smart kid. "Of course," I reply breezily. "He's my friend, after all."

Kevin makes a face. "I hope he doesn't bring stupid girls with him."

"Kev," I scold immediately. "Don't be rude. Those girls are very sweet. Who knows? Maybe you'll end up liking one of them?" I wink at him and he mimes throwing up.

"Definitely not," a deep voice says and we both jump. Jared comes down the stairs, hands buried in his pockets, a beatific grin plastered on his face. "My sisters don't get to date anyone before I do." His gaze locks with mine and I fight a blush at the slightly suggestive nature of his smile.

"Who said anything about dating?" I reply airily, standing, brushing down my skirt. Kevin follows suit. "I was just talking about _crushing_."

Jared stares at me for a long moment, a slight smirk building on his lips. "You would know all about that, wouldn't you?"

My mouth makes an audible popping noise as it drops open, much to Jared's apparent amusement. A wolfish grin unfurls on his face.

_He did not just say that_.

"Jared," a voice whines and we all turn to see Jenn stomping down the stairs. She's wearing an adorable blue sweater and a pair of capri pants and her hair is tied into two braids. "Why can't I wear a swimsuit? Oh, hi, Kim!" Kevin stares at her like she's the Antichrist and I stifle a chortle, returning her greeting.

Jared sighs patiently. "Because it's _cold_ outside, Jenny. How many times do I have to tell you? Nobody's playing in the water today. Now, go get Jessie."

A few minutes later, we are all packed and bundled up once more, making our way to Jared's black car.

I'm sitting in the front passenger seat, next to Jared, who is way too huge for the car, might I add, and the dynamic feels all sorts of weird. I feel like a family, packing up to go on a picnic or something. Jared drives, I keep an eye on the kids in the backseat, and the three children attempt to get along. Like a freaking husband-wife-children situation.

Yeah, no.

"So," Jared starts quietly, his fingers flexing on the wheel, his arm muscles rippling attractively, as he parks the car near the beach. The kids are quick to unbuckle and get out, as though claustrophobic. Although, it _is_ rather warm in the car, but that's probably due to Jared's space heater tendencies. I follow at a slower pace, waiting for Jared. "You never did tell me how your birthday bash went."

"Oh," I start. I clamber out of the car, shutting the door and meeting Jared on the other side. He waits for me, hands in pockets. "It was fun. We danced all night, mostly."

"You dance?" he asks an indecipherable expression on his face.

I nod. "Yeah, my mom practically begged my dad to put me in as many extra-curriculars as possible. So, I took Jazz and Tap and dabbled on a bit of Ballet back in the day..."

His cheeks color, just slightly. "O-oh. I see..."

I stare. "What? What was that?"

He raises a brow as we trail after our siblings at a slow pace. "What was what?"

I gesture weirdly. "That- that awkward stuttering thing."

He clears his throat, looking a bit embarrassed. "It was nothing. Don't worry about it."

I laugh. "Ok, now you _have_ to tell me." I grab his bicep without thinking. "_Come on_, tell me, Jared!"

He grows rigid, staring down at my fingers, wrapped around his arm. He swallows roughly. "I can't dance," he blurts out.

I blink and release his arm. He frowns. "What? Seriously?"

He nods, looking a bit forlorn. "Yeah. Never been able to."

"But...you've been to like every school dance," I try to reason.

He shrugs, looking a bit uncomfortable. "Um...I only went cause I was usually on the Court... and my mom made me. I didn't dance. Swayed, when appropriate...sometimes jumped."

I choke back a baffled laugh at_ that_ image. "Oh. Well...if it makes you feel better...I don't dance to popular music."

He turns to me, eyes sparkling. "What?"

I shrug. "Yeah, I can't stand it. Fucking Bow Wow and Akon and all those other losers who think they make good music but actually completely destroyed the music industry with their piece of shit songs." I take a deep shuddering breath. "Damn, that was harsh. Sorry," I add sheepishly.

But he's too busy laughing at me.

We situate ourselves somewhat near the waves, close enough to monitor our siblings, running about and getting their feet wet, and far enough to sit without having to move if the tide decided to be naughty and come collect us.

Jared is leaning back on one elbow, on his side, somewhat facing me. He tears at a leaf, distractedly. He looks utterly sinful. "They seem to be getting along," he muses, his eyes drifting to mine. He catches my gaze and smiles brilliantly and angles his body towards mine even more.

I pull my knees to my chest and roll my eyes. "You could put three children in a room with a _fork_ and they would somehow find a way to play with it. The beach is practically heaven." I sigh, shaking out my hair, extremely conscious of Jared's stare. "Sometimes I miss that. That childhood imagination...the ability to take something so simple and turn it into something kaleidoscopic." I smile at the sky. "It's a gift we lose with age. Who says age isn't a tragedy?"

Jared is watching me, I can tell. I keep my eyes on the sky, even as he starts to answer. "I think...children need their imagination to create something to enjoy because being a child is one of the loneliest periods of someone's life. And they need it, just to survive. To get through it. We lose it with age...because...we learn to depend on others."

I turn to look at him. I had never thought about it that way. He's watching me with the most unfathomable expression. Almost like he wants me to pick up on something from his words.

Watching Jared's crop of black hair drift gently in the breeze, my stomach turns over, my hands tremble, and my heart picks up speed.

* * *

"Let's leave them for a moment," Jared murmurs in my ear gently as we watch Jenn, Jessie, and Kevin eat their animal crackers at the Camerons' breakfast table with gusto, occasionally swapping figures. I look up at him and he is so near, my heart might burst. He smiles widely as if he can hear it.

I blush subtly and set down my glass of water. "Where are we going?"

"To my room," he says. At my questioning brow he adds, "I want... to show you my art."

My smile brightens to a beam and I raise to follow him without anymore questions.

"Emily and I are sort of art fanatics- you know Emily, Emily Young? Right, well, she teaches art at the local college, and possibly at our school next year, and she's fantastic. Got me really into color scheme and textures," he tells me as we climb the stairs.

My heart is working double time. I'm about to see Jared's art. I'm about to see a piece of his soul. The idea is thrilling.

He opens the door to his room, gallantly allowing my entrance first and I slide past him, taking in the crisp white sheets and navy blue comforter, the desk, and the half-filled wardrobe that is currently vomiting clothes out onto the floor.

"Er, sorry about that," Jared moves past me, cheeks a bit red. He kicks a few clothes back into the wardrobe. "I had to take a lot of my clothes to Sam and Emily's place and I forgot to clean up..."

I nod, absent-minded. It's a bit strange how close he is with them, seeing how they weren't really besties before Jared had gotten sick.

"Sam's a good friend of yours?" I ask lightly, stepping forward to drag my fingers lightly across his bedspread. Jared notices and his eyes darken, watching my movements with something akin to feral hunger.

"Uh, yeah," he agrees. He clears his throat. "The best."

"And Paul?" I ask over my shoulder as I drift over to examine his mounted shelf of picture frames. Oh, how cute. He's adorable with his twin sisters, I swear. I smile at a picture where he has both girls placed on either knee, all of them grinning with popsicle stained red lips. He's still lanky in this picture, cute and boyish.

"Yeah, Paul's cool too," he says huskily and I turn around to stare at the man he's turned into. The fact that there is only a bed- _a bed!_- between us resonates within me and I blush under his scrutiny.

"You ever sleep on this thing?" I ask awkwardly, gesturing to his perfectly made bed. It looks untouched.

He ruffles a hand through his hair distractedly. "Oh you know...sometimes..." he says, looking strained. He walks around in a constant state of exhaustion so I doubt it just a bit.

I nod. "So...er, art?"

"Right," he explodes, making his way to his desk and opening the second drawer carefully. It's littered with scraps, pencils of different widths and textures, and paint sets. I grin. He pulls out a large sketchpad.

"I hung up that art piece you gave me," I tell him conversationally, as I approach. He looks up at me immediately and his beam brightens the room.

"Yeah?" he asks, grinning full-on.

"Duh," I say, leaning my backside against the desk so that my shoulder is parallel with his. "I stared at it all night last night, mounted on my wall, before I went to bed. It's even more beautiful than the real thing outside my window." I smile as I remember how the moon had cast shadows on his painting in just the right away, creating an indescribable effect that I couldn't tear my eyes away from.

Jared stares at me, his grin faltering into something so much more. "I-I'm...so glad to hear that," he says, slightly hoarse, and I blush for unknown reasons.

He slides his sketchpad towards me, looking nervous. "Here..."

I grasp it in my fingers, slow, making sure to hold the book in the gentlest manner and not rush the process. A smile on my lips, I enthusiastically flip the cover open to the first page and...

Oh.

It's _beautiful._

A pair of hands, clasped together, shaded in the most gorgeous, life-like manner. No color. Just charcoal and life. I exhale shakily.

"Wow..." I murmur. Tentatively, I run my hands over it and then pause. I don't want to ruin a single thing. Cautiously, regretfully, I flip to the next page.

A fruit bowl.

I snort. I hear Jared chuckle beside me. _Generic_.

"It's gorgeous, though. Best fruitbowl in the world," I admit, looking up at him shortly, only to see him watching me very carefully. I blush and look down again. I flip the page.

First Beach.

"Holy shit," I rasp. It's stunning. Having just seen it a few moments before, I can safely say that it is every bit as magnificent as the real thing, if not more, because somehow, he has turned gloomy skies into skies with personality and character. "That's...that's just pure talent. Making First Beach look beautiful? Pure talent."

He sniggers.

We continue this way for a while, me flipping through stunning sketches, him watching me flip through his sketches.

Soon, it isn't just landscapes and still life; there's _people_.

"Who's this?" I ask, gesturing to a woman who sits at a breakfast table. She holds a steaming mug to her lips and her eyes are so far off, she looks as though she might drift away.

"My mom," he says and I examine the picture further, interested. He looks like her, I decide. All strong eyebrows and sharp features; her face has beautiful laugh lines. I can tell just from the drawing that she's lived a happy, content life. There's a part of me that wishes my mother looked like that; not in features, but in spirit and the simple joy that Mrs. Cameron seems to resonate.

"She's beautiful," I decide. "You look like her."

"So I've been told," he murmurs, smiling as I meet his eyes. I turn to the next page.

I freeze.

Jared freezes.

The page I've just flipped flutters out of my fingers.

It's...It's _me_.

I'm smiling in the drawing. It isn't a fully-formed beam- a simple parting of the lips, a gray area, almost as if I'm on the way to a smile but just haven't gotten there yet. The drawing Kim smiles slightly and her hair is a flickering flame, frozen but somehow moving through the charcoal. Her eyes glow with a coy happiness and her cheeks flush, dark and sultry. Her lips are bruised to dark perfection and a single piece of hair...just drifts in front of them...

I blush at that.

Jared drew me.

Jared _drew me_.

I shake my head slowly, trying to gather my bearings. "I don't...I don't remember this happening. When did you do this?" I look up at him.

His eyes are smoldering and warm and the embarrassment is fading from his cheeks into something that makes _me_ feel embarrassed. "It never happened."

_It...never_...realization dawns on me.

"You did this from _memory_?" I ask, incredulous. "Holy _fuck_."

He ducks his head, bashful.

My hands tremble. "That- that's just amazing, that is. That's brilliant." There's much more to the sketchpad left and I get the feeling that that isn't the last of me. I shut the book carefully, having seen enough for today, not wanting to be overwhelmed. I set it down. "That's brilliant," I repeat, shakily.

He's watching my reaction carefully, trying to understand it, trying to read it. I rub my hands together and something occurs to me.

"Hey," I start warily. He straightens. "There's something you said earlier today that's been bothering me..."

He stops leaning on his desk and uncrosses his legs, facing me, anxious. "_What_? What did I say? Shit, I'm sorry, Kim, I'm such a dumbass sometimes, I swear, I probably didn't mean it-"

I chuckle. "No, no it wasn't bad- um- just that comment you made about-_crushing_."

He closes his mouth abruptly and watches me, cautious.

I readjust my frame against his desk and fight the urge to look at him as I speak. "I don't think I ever...properly apologized for what I said that one day when I was...drunk-ish. I..." I falter, here.

"...you meant it but shouldn't have said it?" Jared guesses, chuckling slightly, the sound a little sad.

I frown. "Well, yes," I allow. "But not just that- I think it's right that you know- now that we're... friends and all... I suppose, I'm glad the truth's out. I'd rather be honest."

His expression is indecipherable. "We're friends, then?"

I give him a look. "You got me _Pink Floyd_ for my birthday. Of _course_ we're friends."

He laughs at that.

"Anyway," I brush some hair out of my face. "I just wanted to apologize for...objectifying you...for the majority of our high school career. You didn't deserve that- I just...never thought we'd ever speak and so my guilty conscience was a little...faulty. I'm glad we're friends. I'm glad...you're not how I thought you were."

He furrows his brows. "And how was that?"

I chew my lip for a second before answering. "An asshole."

He looks a little hurt. "Seriously?"

I shrug. "I didn't know you. Some random popular kid who dangled girls off his arms and horseplayed around with other popular douchebags." Agony paints Jared's features. I sigh. "You were nice enough, though, or so it seemed, and cute, and just _there_. So I just created a fantasy and slapped it onto your name."

He smirks slightly. "You think I'm cute?"

I roll my eyes, but red creeps up my cheeks. "Doesn't everyone?"

He grins at that and then raises both his brows, his voice melancholic. "Is that how it works, then? You imagine up a perfect person and my face acts as the grounding aspect?"

I flush, ashamed. "I'm really sorry. But it was stupid. And the perfection part didn't do any good, anyway, because, in the end I couldn't hide the fact that I didn't like my made up version of you as much as I'd wanted to."

His expression is curious in the fading light of his bedroom, as the sun sets, and I wonder what he's thinking behind those beautiful brown eyes.

* * *

Jared drops Kevin and I back home when the sun has set and his parents are due to arrive for dinner. I thank him profusely as we get out, telling him to stay in the car when he offers to walk us to the door, and he's completely gracious.

I wait for the car to drive away, waving at short intervals, before turning to the house. I halt in place.

Chris sits on my porch.

Kevin pulls at my hand, telling me this, even as I see it, and I nod at him, giving him the keys to the house and telling him to go in.

Chris greets Kevin as he passes her and then watches me as I walk towards her.

"Hi," she says.

"Hi," I reply, wary.

Slowly, I approach her. I take a seat beside her on the porch and stare ahead, unseeing.

There's a comfortable silence between us. It's always been that way; it's one of the reasons we're best friends.

And, soon enough, she begins to speak.

"It was freshman year," she says. "About a month before Homecoming."

I wait. She pauses. She continues.

"Jared and I had been paired up in Pre-AP Biology. Lab partners." She smiles wryly. "Everyone was so jealous of me, all the girls. I remember that. Mostly because he actually paid attention to me and...flirted."

She takes a deep shuddering breath. "We started working on homework and projects outside of school. He was cute. Flirty. Sweet." She fidgets. "And he liked me. One of the times we were working together, it was at his place. We started getting…friendly." She looks uncomfortable, and then I am too.

"We…did stuff. Not sex. But…stuff. I…thought that, after that, we would be in a relationship by default." She looks away. "I was wrong."

"I asked him to Homecoming. He told me... he had a girlfriend. He rejected me in front of the whole stupid Biology class." She turned to me, eyes shining. "I was _devastated_."

"It wasn't long after that that your little pseudo crush on him started. I was constantly reminded of it for the next few months, the time it took me to get over it. And now…I'm _fine_ with it but…" she looks at me, pained. "He's like…_obsessed_ with you."

I shift. "It's not like that."

"Yeah, it is though," she laughs, bitter. "I guess I'm just…sour grapes and stuff…I was just weirded out when he started speaking to you…it was sort of like…rejection all over again…and I just felt… like…"

_Like I wasn't good enough._

_Like he chose you over me._

I watch her side profile, my heart aching. "Chris…why didn't you _tell_ me?"

She lets out a huff of breath. "Mostly because I was ashamed. And embarrassed. And I didn't want you to judge me." She shoots me a sidelong look.

"Why would I ever judge you, Chris," I ask firmly.

"Because you're freaking perfect, Kim," she bursts out to my astonishment. "Nothing ever goes wrong with you- you're level-headed and wise and logical and your life is just all sunshine and roses-"

"Chris," I interrupt, bewildered. "You know better than anyone that I'm _far_ from perfect."

"Do I?" she asks with a raised brow. "I think I know better than anyone that you _are_ perfect. You're pretty, you're athletic and musical, you're a shoo-in for an Ivy League, you're so _happy_ with your life-"

"Well what else am I supposed to be?" I explode. "You want me to sit around _moping_ about the things that go wrong in my life? No. I'm content with who I am because every decision I've made has been in my hands and the things I haven't been given have been replaced with other things that I wouldn't change for the world." I stare at her and she stares back. I speak quietly, "I'm not judging you for being with Jared, Chris, and even if I were, I'd have no right. You should have trusted me."

There's a moment of silence between us.

"I was so jealous of you, Kim," she admits finally and I feel small at that.

Chris? Jealous of _me_? Chris is beautiful. Chris is smart and beautiful and funny. Chris has been on dates, is relatively popular outside of our group, and always looks fantastic. Chris' smile is just about perfect, while mine is filled with humor, Chris' hair is thick and lovely while mine has an unhealthy sheen at times, thin and wispy, Chris' eyes are large lovely orbs of Godiva chocolate while mine are smaller, cheap drug store dark chocolate versions.

Chris _can't_ be jealous of me.

"You're not. You can't be. You're _stunning_."

She rolls her eyes. "Kim, I hate when you do that; sometimes you don't even know what you're worth- but if you want to be superficial about it, then fine. How's _this_? I have a gap between my teeth while yours are just about perfect, my lips are thin and pale while yours are all full and red, my skin is always breaking out while you have the most flawless skin _ever_."

It's funny how two people can see such different things.

"You've always been one for aesthetics over substance, Kim. Probably why you started that crushing nonsense on Jared, anyway," she tells me lowly. "But I know you better than anyone else and…I know exactly how beautiful you are as a person."

I melt. "Chris…"

"He really likes you, I think. And he's... different...from before. I think," she interrupts.

I sigh. "I don't...think anything's going to happen there, Chris."

"Well, if it does..." She squares her shoulders. "Hos before bros. So I'll support it."

I smirk at that. "Actually, it's just the opposite. I'm definitely the bro in this situation." We laugh together.

She looks at me, the stars reflected in her eyes. "You're my best friend, you know."

I grin. "You're mine, too," and we both direct our gazes to the moon in the clear night sky.


	9. Chapter 9

"You're at my house," I state blankly.

"Yep," Jared says cheerfully, looking very out of place and large on my front porch. His eyes drift downwards and begin to sparkle. "And you're not wearing pants."

I slam the door in his face.

It's not as though I'm obscenely walking around the house without pants on. It's a Sunday morning and it's ten am. And I slept in my dad's shirt.

I begin to think, my tired brain, still a bit muddled from sleep, considering. What the fucking fuck is Jared doing here. I turn and make my way up the stairs.

It's ten am, Sunday morning. _What_ is Jared doing here.

I root around in my closet and find a pair of ratty gray sleep pants and slip them on. I jog down the stairs and open the front door once more.

As I expected, he's still standing there, beaming, crisply dressed in a blue t-shirt and a pair of jeans. He grins at my alteration in clothing.

"What are you doing here?" I ask finally after a moment's pause.

"I brought coffee," Jared says holding up the cups in his hand and, of course, I have to let him in after that.

He walks in with a sort of cheerful spring in his step and hands me one container of steaming deliciousness. I peruse him suspiciously over the top. "So...what's going on?"

He takes a gulp from his coffee, in a very attractive manner, may I add, and shrugs. "I heard from the twins that your tennis coach is ill so...no tennis practice today. I thought we could hang out." Suddenly, while I am feeling very touched and pleased at this development, he looks aghast. "But, I mean if you have other plans, you can attend to those. I didn't even consider- shit, I feel really stupid-"

I pat him on the arm, reassuringly. He freezes at once. "Stop beating yourself up. I'd be happy to hang out. Except, I'm going to be catering to the little monster most of the morning, so..."

Jared's brows crinkle. "The little monster?"

As if on cue, Kevin runs down the stairs, sporting pajamas with racecars printed on them, and a huge beam. "Kim! What's for lunch?" He spots Jared and his eyes widen. "Oh!"

"Hey, buddy," I say, cheerfully. "Jared's going to be here for a while, is that ok?"

He comes to my side and hugs my leg. "Yeah." He beams at Jared who beams back immediately. "What's for lunch, Kimmie?"

"Coleslaw, if you call me that again," I say airily, moving towards the kitchen. I hear Jared snicker from behind me. "What do you feel like having?"

Kevin frowns. "Not lasagna."

I frown too. "Great."

Jared cocks an eyebrow curiously, leaning against the breakfast bar. "Lasagna?"

I rub a hand over my temple wearily. "It's one of the only things I can actually cook. I'm terrible at everything else..."

Jared's other eyebrow climbs upwards to meet the other. "I somehow doubt that."

I give him a look. "You're going to be eating your words soon enough. Since everything else won't be edible."

* * *

"I have no idea how I did that," I say, astonished, staring at the charcoal bits that are the antipasti. Jared roars with laughter beside me at the stove.

"I don't think I've ever seen carrots become _hard_." He picks up a bit of some identifiable vegetable and holds it up to his face to examine it shrewdly. "This could pass for a bullet." He pops it into his mouth and crunches, then winces. "Not too bad," he lies.

I gape at him. "Holy shit, that could have been poisonous! You're too young to die!" He winks at me, and reaches out to take another demolished vegetable. I slap his hand away and he pouts.

I roll my eyes and move the pan to the sink to pour it out. Kevin strolls into the kitchen before dramatically throwing his arms in front of his face and scowling in repulsion. "Urgh. I'm not eating that, Kim! I'd rather have coleslaw."

I glare at him and then turn my glare on Jared as this comment send him into another fit of laughter. "Both of you, stop." Jared ceases mid-laugh. I ignore this. "Kevin, what do you want to eat, then?"

He ponders. "Can't you bake some pie?"

"You can't have dessert for lunch, my little one," I say cheerfully as I scrub at the pan vigorously to remove the burnt remains. Jared gently takes the pan from my hands. "Oh, you don't have to do that, Jared," I say, guiltily, attempting to take it back.

"It's completely fine," he says quietly, shooting me a small smile. I quiet immediately, hands retreating.

"Kimmmmm," Kevin tries to get my attention. "Pie, pie, pie, pie-"

"Oh my God," I say testily. "Ok, I'll make pie, but if it's pie, it'll have to be shepherd's pie. The healthier option."

"Yay!" Kevin cheers. "And what's for dessert?"

I laugh. "A surprise. Now go watch TV, ok? I'll call you when it's ready." He runs off without protest. I turn to see Jared watching me intently. I blink, blushing. "What's up?"

A slow smile blossoms on his face. "You're a good sister."

I duck my head and smile. "I try. I'm always trying to make up for my shortcomings when it comes to sibling guidance, though." I sigh and move around the kitchen to grab the cutting board, a potato, and two carrots.

"Shortcomings?" Jared asks, as if he doesn't understand the word's meaning.

I snort as I cleanly slice into a potato. "Right, you've probably never heard the word."

There's a pause. "Oh, _I've_ heard it. I just didn't think _you_ had." I look up at him. He looks dead serious.

I laugh. "Are you for real?"

He raises his eyebrows, challenging. "You're perfect."

My mouth drops open. What is with all these people calling me...

_Chris_.

The topic of Chris seems extremely uncomfortable to bring up. I feel like I should, but I don't know how. I look away, awkward. "I'm far from that. As you've seen from my failings in the kitchen."

Jared shrugs. "We all have different versions of perfect." He gives me a strange look, somewhere between smoldering and earnest.

I have no idea what _that_ means, so I let it drop. "Right, well, perfect is boring. I'd rather have flawed and interesting."

He starts to smile. "I would expect that from you, though. You tend to surprise the world."

"I think everyone does, at some point," I say with a sigh and Jared tilts his head as he thinks.

"I think you might be right," he says, after some thought.

"I usually am," I say with a playful grin.

* * *

"Why was that so delicious, but you couldn't make the other thing?" Jared asks through a moan as he leans back in his chair. Which makes sense, since he had had half the pan, easily. Kevin finishes up his serving happily.

I spoon the last bit of my pie into my mouth and stand up, carrying Kev's and Jared's plates with me, despite the latter's protests. "I can't cook, but I can bake almost everything," I inform him. I notice him patting his stomach. "Are you too full for dessert?"

He shoots up. "No way!"

I laugh. "Good. Because I have made _apple crumble_!" I say dramatically, opening the oven and pulling out yet another tray of hot goodness. "Who wants?"

Both boys shoot their hands up and I chuckle, delighted at their positive, childish reactions. While it's to be expected from the actual child in the situation, Jared's playful nature is simply sweet to behold.

I serve the dessert, hot with vanilla bean ice cream, and Kevin carries his bowl to the TV room. Jared and I take a seat back at the kitchen table.

We talk. We talk like never before. He tells me that his father is a carpenter and that he helps him out with his work. He tells me he loves it, as much as he loves art. He tells me he tutors the twins in his spare time because he wants them to be smarter than he is. He tells me that the place he wants to visit most is Las Vegas because he tends to be a compulsive gambler. I laugh at that.

"I've done a lot of fucked up shit in the past," he admits at one point. I gaze at him questioningly as his expression grows uncomfortable. "I don't know if you know but...I have some weird history with one of your friends...Christine."

I stare, shocked.

He...he told _me_. I didn't have to confront him. _He_ told _me_. My eyes soften just a bit.

For some reason, it makes me happy that he's the one to tell me instead of me bringing it up. It means...he trusts me? I don't know, but I'm pleased, regardless.

He misinterprets my gaze. "Yeah, around freshman year. I played with her a bit. I was such an asshole," he says miserably.

Blinking out of my stunned moment of pause, I shake my head. "We've all done things we regret," I say slowly. "You were a kid. And...kids often do fucked up shit."

"I'm not too proud of who I was," he states abruptly. His eyes drift to me before falling to the table.

"You don't have to be," I say. "As long as you're proud of who you are now." I smile as he lifts his head to meet my eyes.

"Yeah," he says very quietly.

It begins to rain sometime after noon. Our bowls are empty and our stomachs ache from laughter. I'm completely content.

"I like rain," I tell him and his head shoots up. "Yeah, I know. Everyone tends to hate whatever situation they're in, and someone who's lived in Washington State their whole life would most probably despise rain. But I love it." I sigh and readjust my fingers around my bowl. "I don't know why. It's sort of like...the world looks completely different. Vaguer. Blurred. Like, behind those rain droplets is...something amazing, just waiting to happen." I shake my head and release a small laugh. "That sounds so completely stupid." I look up and trail off.

He's giving me this piercing look. Like he can see straight past every facade I've ever put up. Everything. Past skin, muscles, tissue, bones. "I know exactly what you mean," he says, softly. His hand lifts, hovers in the air, hesitating, before it lands on top of mine. My eyes widen.

"That's what rainbows are for," he tells me, one side of his mouth lifted into a smile. I smile back slowly.

"Your hands are cold," he says in a low voice, his eyes just about boring into mine.

"Bad circulation," I murmur back through numb lips.

A smile twists at his lips. "How convenient."

Before I can ask him what he means, Kevin takes this chance to make an appearance. He barrels into the kitchen but stops abruptly when he sees our hands. Jared pulls away.

"Hey, Kevin," I smile weakly. "Done with dessert?"

He nods in response, eyes moving back and forth between the two of us.

Jared stands. "I should probably go, actually. I'm sure my sisters are wondering where I am. They were asleep when I left."

"Oh, ok," I say, immediately standing. "Just give me one minute, ok?" He agrees.

I meet him at the front door, holding out a box of apple crumble. "For the girls," I tell him when he takes it, giving me his slightly awed look.

He hesitates. "I can't promise that they'll get to try some," he admits mischievously and I laugh.

"I can always make more."

"I'll hold you to that," he grins as he waves and jogs out into the rain. I watch him go, the smile still lingering. Suddenly, there's this sharp sensation, right where my heart might be. I call out his name, loud and sudden. He turns.

I hesitate. "I..."

But I have no idea what I want to say. He watches me, expectant, and the rain pouring down in turrets over his handsome face makes me speak.

"See you tomorrow," I say, finally.

He smiles back warmly. "See you tomorrow." And then he is gone, swallowed up by the rain.

As I close the door, I smile and I wonder where it's taken him.

* * *

"Kim, wait up!" I stop in place and turn to see Jared jogging towards me, looking very beautiful and out of my league.

I blink. Where did _that_ thought come from.

I shake my head to clear it of weird thoughts and smile at the approaching Jared. "Hey! Ready for History?"

"Not at all," he says, grinning. "Let's do this." We resume walking.

Chris had been absent today. I'm not sure why, since it's Monday and Chris loathes missing Mondays. I have a feeling it might be that she's sick, what with it being flu season and her affinity for catching illnesses extremely fast. Mary and Linda had bothered me about Chris and I's fightish thing but I had ignored them.

"Eat well?" Jared asks casually as we stroll. I nod enthusiastically.

"Oh, yes. I was starved." I readjust my books in my hands. "Hungry like the wolfffff," I sing under my breath.

Suddenly, there's a bout of slightly high-pitched laughter. I turn to my side. Jared is clutching at his stomach, laughing outrageously loudly.

I stare at him. People around us are staring at him. I replay our conversation in my head. "...something funny?" I ask calmly.

He brushes away a tear. "Oh, man."

What.

"Well, then," I say. He regains control over himself. "Welcome back," I say wryly.

He grins roguishly at me and I have to blush.

The History classroom is relatively empty as we step in, Jared gallantly allowing me entrance first. I curtsy playfully. "Be careful not to step on my train, now," I say, holding my nose in the air and pretending to lift my skirt up, which in reality, is knee-length. He sniggers as he walks behind me.

Class begins uneventfully. In fact, I am having a fantastic time not paying attention, until-

"Pop quiz!" our teacher cries enthusiastically. My mouth drops open in a silent scream.

"What? What is it?" Jared asks from beside me, and I realize he's been watching me.

I run a hand through my ponytail and scowl at the absurdly happy teacher. "I'm going to fail this class," I murmur unhappily.

"I'm sure it's not that bad," Jared says soothingly. I give him a look that says he should know better than to question me on my honest deduction of my own skills. Especially after the cooking incident. I retrieve my folder from my bag and pull out a paper. The last quiz. I pass it to him, ashamed.

He stares at it. "Oh, wow. A fifty." He looks up, eyes sparkling. "You're pretty bad at History, huh?"

I nod, solemn. "I don't lie about my shortcomings. I suck balls at History." I moan and drop my head onto my arms. "I'm so stupidddddddd," I groan.

"No, you're not," Jared says firmly. I peek at him over my arm. He smiles. "Your brain's too busy being awesome at other stuff."

I blink. Red creeps into my cheeks.

He lays a tender hand on my arm. "Want me to help you?" he asks seriously.

I lift my head. "Uh. Hell, yes. But how?" I ask, confused.

He winks. "Leave it to me."

And then he slides off his chair and drops dead onto the floor.

There's a scream. The class erupts into shocked exclamations and shrieks of _'Is he ok?'_ I stare at the boy at my feet, who is face down splayed against the floor, flabbergasted.

What the hell is happening?

"It appears as though Mr Cameron has fainted," the teacher states obviously. The class is all crowding around the two of us, shaking him, placing their hands all over him, concerned. Typical. "Everyone, step back, give him some air. Someone take him to the nurse's office." Pretty much the whole class raises their hands. I scoff inwardly. Again, typical.

Suddenly, there's something entwining around my ankle, like a hot jellyfish. I shriek and stand up abruptly. The whole class stares at me, hands still in the air. I realize, after a moment, that the warm jellyfish is Jared's hand. His shoulders are very discreetly shaking, with laughter, I'm guessing. I subtly kick him.

"Ah, Miss Connweller. Are you volunteering?" the teacher asks, bored. I nod quickly as the grip around my ankle tightens. "Off you go, then."

I place a hand gently on Jared's back and he stiffens. He pulls a rather convincing show of blearily blinking his eyes as I swing his well-muscled arm around my shorter frame and drag him to a standing position. It's surprisingly easy, but I'm guessing Jared's doing most of the work.

The teacher hands us the hall pass and I leave with Jared and our bags swung around my shoulders.

As soon as we're a safe distance from the classroom, Jared bursts into cackles.

And then I'm laughing too, even as Jared picks himself up off of me and grabs, not just his bag, but mine as well, and swings both over his shoulder. "I can't believe you just did that," I say through my giggles, accidentally colliding into his shoulder with the force of my laughter.

"Are you repulsed by my trickery? My delinquent nature?" He mocks as he steadies me, his hand drifting down my shoulder, my arm, all the way to my hand, where he bumps his fingers into mine. I roll my eyes through my uneasy flush and suddenly, his fingers are entwining with mine. "Come on!"

And we're running.

"People only run when they have something to hide," I say laughingly as we sprint through the school. My ponytail bounces behind me and my skirt flaps around my legs and I feel free. Jared turns to grin at me.

"Feel free to stop running at any time, then. I can carry you." His eyes sparkle. I make a face at him.

"Sorry, but I weigh the equivalent of a small house," I say breathlessly.

He rolls his eyes, and his voice is surprisingly steady despite our running. "Oh, please. I bet you're weightless."

But with Jared's hand in mine, I really am.

* * *

I pull a blade of grass between my fingers, admiring the texture and the healthy green color.

"Pretty," Jared comments and I make a noise of assent. I think we're probably the only two people who might ignore the flowers surrounding us and compliment the grass instead.

This little patch of heaven is a bit of a distance from the school. Jared had led us here to escape truancy or being caught in school but not actually _in_ school.

Now, laying on my stomach with blades of grass between my fingers and toes, I smile because this is a completely new experience. It was refreshing and fun to see a boyish, fun side of Jared, even if it was for purposes that might get us in trouble.

"Hey, where'd you learn to act like that?" I ask, looking up at him. He seems to be watching me intently. I blush, but continue. "Even I was fooled for a second there."

He smirks. "I went to a fine arts camp in Seattle for a few summers back in the day." I raise a brow, impressed. "I think my parents wanted to instill something to calm the roughhousing boy in me."

I grin. "Oh, so you were a _roughhousing_ type of boy then?"

He falls onto his back, spread eagle, staring up at the oatmeal sky. "I was a roughhousing, stupid, emotionally unavailable type of boy," he states monotonously. He tilts his face, his eyes falling on me. He smiles when he sees me fanning my face with a few blades of grass.

"I was the eccentric, fanciful, happy sort of girl," I say, sighing dramatically, throwing the blades of grass into the air and watching them flutter to the ground. I run my fingers over the tips of grass still rooted to the Earth. "I still am, I think."

"Nothing wrong with that," he says, tucking his arms beneath his head.

I smile, lashes brushing my cheeks as I cast my eyes downward. Something suddenly occurs to me and the tactless part of me spits it out. "Jared...don't you miss your friends?"

He looks at me, confused. I bite my lip. "I mean...they were your friends. You guys barely speak anymore."

He looks away and readjusts his head against his arms. "They don't get me," he mutters. "They only understand who I was before. They don't get me now."

I stare at him. "You mean...before you were protector? Before those...weird two weeks?" I ask, quietly. He turns his face to me once more, eyes wide.

"Kim," he says, sitting up and moving to face me. "There's a lot of stuff that...I want to tell you. And I promise you. I will."

I nod slowly. "You don't...owe me anything..." I saw, quietly. He shakes his head vigorously.

"Yes, I do. So just...I swear I'll tell you. Hold on for a bit. I'll tell you."

I smile at him, reassuring. I have no doubt that he will. I also know I won't judge him, whatever it is. "And Paul?"

He blinks. "What about him?"

"Paul's your friend. Does he get you?"

He lays back down, a small smile twitching at his lips. "Paul and I...have more in common than we expected. I never knew before, but...yeah. We're more similar than I thought."

"That's incredible," I admit in a soft voice. He looks up at me, startled.

"What is?"

"The...the fact that you were able to look past social norms, past stereotypes and generalizations and befriend and find a kindred soul in Paul," I say wondrously. "That's...amazing."

He stares at me, his mouth open.

I clear my throat after a moment. "I'm glad you're friends with him," I say. I look down at the grass between my fingers.

There's a pause. "Yeah."

Comfortable silence flows around us. I flip my ponytail over my shoulder and then decide to tell him the truth.

"I was pretty emotionally unavailable too," I admit softly. I lift my eyes to his and then look down again. "I mean...before."

He's surprised, at first, but recovers quickly. He turns onto his side and his eyes are simultaneously bright and soft. "And now?" he asks quietly.

_Now?_

Now.

Jared's eyes are soft and bright and lovely.

"Jared?"

We both look up. Paul emerges from the surrounding trees. He spots me and slows. I scramble to get up, brushing down my skirt, and Jared does the same.

_Whoa_. They're both so _big_. Sort of scary. Also, extremely good-looking. I'm a little intimidated.

"Uh," Jared says awkwardly. He gestures between the two of us. "Kim, Paul. Paul... Kim," he says.

I blush furiously and mutter a greeting. Paul gives me a weird look; halfway between a sneer and a smirk, and inclines his head mockingly. He turns to Jared. "Sam needs us."

Jared blinks. "Now?" he mutters, sounding irritated. His eyes quickly dart over to me pointedly, and I blush harder.

Paul rolls his eyes. "Yes, asswipe. Now." He turns and trudges away.

"It's fine," I say reassuringly, quietly. I pick up my backpack and throw it over my shoulder. "I should go anyway..."

Jared runs a hand over his face. "Ok, yeah. I'm sorry, Kim," he says mournfully.

I beam brightly. "It's all good." Jared smiles back, his eyes softening.

And then, his lips are on my forehead.

My eyes widen and I blink in shock. His hand is at the back of my neck, holding me to him, and his lips are warm, soft, and wonderful against my forehead.

He releases me, slow and tender, staring at me with a precious expression. "See you," he murmurs lowly and then he is gone.

I stare at the place where he was standing, uncomprehending. Slowly, I lift a hand to my forehead, which is tingling.

All the blood in my body flows straight to my face.

* * *

The door to Chris' house is opened by her elderly grandmother. She ushers me in with a beam and a hug.

"Christine is in bed. She's just recovering, I believe. You know how she is, getting sick so easily." I murmur in agreement as we climb the stairs.

I wave to her grandmother before opening the door to her room. It's a gorgeous bedroom; decorated in shades of maroon, black and white, the walls littered with artistic frames and shelves upon shelves of science books.

I smile as Chris sits up in bed. "Kim?" she questions groggily. She begins to smile.

"Hey, dear," I say quietly, moving to sit beside her on the bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Much, much better," she beams and I return it. "What's that?" she gestures to my bag.

"Oh," I start. I pull out the takeout food and DVDs. "Ordered some Chinese and I have..._The Heiress_ and _The Mark of Zorro_. We can have our own little party," I say cheerfully.

Chris coughs in amusement, "You and your black and white movies," she rasps.

I nudge her, smirking. It fades from my face as I remember one of the reasons I stopped by unannounced. I busy myself with opening the takeout boxes. "So, listen, Chris..."

She watches me, curious.

I look up at her. "It's about Jared."

She raises her brows. Surprise dances across her features.

I swallow convulsively. "I think...you were right. About...a lot of stuff."

And then, a knowing smile is flittering across her lips as she hears what I have to say.


	10. Chapter 10

"What's with the long face?" I ask curiously as I approach Mary at her locker. She's relatively near me, as her last name is Day.

"Nothing, just dealing with Linda's indiscretions," she said, shaking her head, her coal curls bouncing.

"What now," I groan, leaning a shoulder beside the locker beside hers and crossing my arms.

"Basically, she's threatening to tell Cody Summers that I like him." Mary blushes into her locker. I straighten, brows furrowed.

"What? Why?"

"She says it's pathetic," Mary bites her lip. "It's not, is it?"

I raise a brow. "You really asking me that?"

Mary shrugs. "You were different with yours- more attraction than affection," Mary smirks at me sideways.

I grin. "You don't have to tell me. No, it's not pathetic- I mean you're friends with him, right? Wait a bit; for a sign. Don't worry, Linda's more bark than bite."

"You don't have to tell me," Mary mocks and we grin together as Chris approaches us. Mary looks between the two of us. "You guys sorted out everything or should I subtly disappear for a while?"

I roll my eyes and Chris swings an arm around my shoulders. She's a bit shorter than me so I have to duck, and I do so, scowling. "We're perfect. Aren't we, Kimmie-poo?"

"No," I deadpan. "Not if you ever call me that again."

Chris ignores me. "Excited for class?"

I nod. "My socks are folding themselves with excitement."

We snigger childishly all the way to first period, waving to Mary as she leaves to Art. Hey, I should ask her if Jared's in her class.

I blush suddenly.

My mind is filling with yesterday's happenings, the kiss from Jared, the horrific irregular arrythmia of my heart following it, me telling Chris everything and her saying that I like...that I _like_...

ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

I don't. I don't like him. I mean...haha...that would be absurd...I'm smarter than that...much much smarter...

Jared's lips on my forehead were so soft and wonderful and-

No.

NO.

Chris looks at me, brows raised. "Thinking of lover-boy?"

ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHH. How does she _know_?!

I'm blushing so furiously, I pretty much heat up the whole hallway. "_No_."

"You _are_," Chris laughs. "Oh, Kim, that's adorable." She doesn't look bitter and it occurs to me that she's trying. For me.

"Shut up," I mumble and God, this is absolutely mortifying.

I shake my head. I'm not blushing for any reason. Sure, Jared is fuckhot and adorable and sweet but _I'm not blushing because of him_.

"I'm going to go get a drink of water," I tell Chris with dignity as she chuckles at my plight. She waves to me and I set off down the hallway, ignoring the fact that my blush has yet to fade. Damn.

There are only two water fountains in the school and there's always a line between classes; thankfully, I'm hitting it a little close to the bell so I doubt there'll be too many people. So, I'm extremely surprised when I hear voices coming from the direction of the water fountain. I slow my pace before I can round the corner as I recognize one of the voices.

"...already told you why. I just don't like you anymore."

"But _why_," a lovely, feminine voice questions. "I don't get it- what happened to you? You just started ignoring your friends in favor of that Paul idiot and that Kim girl-" My stomach flips over, "-and I know for a fact you used to think Paul Lahote and his friends were morons."

"Don't talk about Paul like that," Jared's deep voice snaps, sounding irritated. I consider leaving, until-

"And what about that Kim girl? What do you see in her anyway? She's so..._quiet_." I realize who's speaking immediately. Alison Menota. I bite my lip, my heart sinking in my chest.

Jared murmurs something back, his voice fervent, that I strain to hear but can't catch. Alison scoffs.

"Oh, _ok_. She's _amazing_. Right." I flush with slight joy. "Well, what about me? We used to have a lot of fun, didn't we?" My stomach flips over again, this time in slight nausea. I understand what she's implicating and the idea sickens me.

"That was a long time ago," Jared says firmly, lowly. I swallow.

"Actually, it was like four weeks ago," she discredits. "Whatever, Jared. If you're turning _me_ down for a girl like Kim, that's just your loss-"

The bell rings before she can finish her sentence and I race away before they can catch me, forgetting about the water, my heart pounding. My insecurities flood back in.

She's right. She's completely right. What does he see in me? What does he _want_ with me?

* * *

I rest my head on my arms, staring at the bottle cap as it twirls, blurring so fast I can't make out it's original shape. It reminds me of Jared- you know, when he's angry sometimes-

I shut down that line of thought abruptly by slamming my hand down on the bottle cap. My playful obsession of Jared has suddenly turned into a very much real one. I hadn't expected this. I swallow roughly and bury my face in my arms. Stupid world and stupid emotions.

As if he'd want anything with me. And even if, magically, he did...it wouldn't be genuine, I just know it. Brain damage, more like.

As I breathe through my nose deeply, the loud laughter and chattering of the lunch room permeates my mind. I nuzzle my arms. Maybe I should attempt to get some sleep...fucking loud noises, though. I may just feign it for a while...

"Kim?" a concerned voice asks. I raise my head.

Of course. Jared stands over me, holding his tray of food and looking extremely worried. He nods at Paul, who stands beside him, to go on, and the boy does so, shooting me a bored look as he does. I fight the urge to roll my eyes.

"Hey, Jared," I say smiling wearily as Paul strides away. Jared notices the nature of my grin and takes the seat beside me immediately.

"Are you ok? Are you sick? Do you need anything?" he fires at me so fast, my tired brain struggles to keep up. I laugh tiredly.

"I'm ok. Just a little tired." I smile at him. "I didn't get much sleep last night..." _And I'm overworking my brain thinking about you and what Alison said so...this is _your_ fault._ I bite my lip, guilty at my thoughts.

It's not his fault. It's my fault for being a pathetic girl who can't reign in her emotions.

His eyes soften. "Oh, Kim..." he says, so tenderly, I would blush to the tips of my toes if I weren't so tired. Of everything. "Do you want to go home?"

I sigh, half-laughing. "I _wish_. My mom would kill me. And then my brother would kill me for not pulling him out of school too," I tack on as an afterthought and he laughs.

"They don't need to know," he says, eyes twinkling. "We could leave now, just the two of us." The idea excites me more than it should and just because of that, I repress the urge to shout _YES!_ and shake my head mournfully.

"Thanks, though. You're a doll." I pat his hand in what I hope is a friendly manner. He stiffens completely and when I pull my a hand away, I notice him flex his fingers imperceptibly.

"Er, you're welcome," he says, a bit flustered. "Uh...Are you free this evening?"

I look up at him, over my crossed arms. "Er. Yeah, I am. Why, what's up?"

"Nothing, nothing," he says in a very suspicious manner. I narrow my eyes at his shady disposition.

"Hey...uh, did you do the History homework?" he asks, probably to distract me. It works.

I freeze. Groaning, I slam my head down on the table with a loud thud, just as the girls make an appearance. They don't look too surprised that Jared is seated with us for the first time.

"Ah, Depressed Kim," Linda says, as though nostalgic. "I was wondering when we'd see her again."

Jared shoots them a look, whilst peering concernedly at my forehead for any bruises. "Depressed Kim?"

"One of the many types of Kims," Mary chirps up. "Usually she's just Quiet Kim, but sometimes there's Happy Kim and Whimsical Kim. Oh, and Obsessive Kim," she winks at me and I flush, resisting the urge to flip her the bird.

"I like Contemplative Kim," Chris says thoughtfully. She shoots me a smile and I return it.

"I like Drunk Kim," Linda pipes up.

"That's not even a type of Kim," Mary says, disgusted.

Linda shrugs. "It should be."

I'm distracted by the lone figure of Paul, chewing on his pizza a few tables away. "Hey, Jared," I interrupt and Jared turns to me immediately, having been listening intently to the girls' stupid conversation about 'the many types of Kim'. "Paul's all alone. Why don't we ask him to come over?"

Jared stares at me, looking a little awed. "Seriously?" he asks, doubt coloring his tone.

I shrug. "I feel bad. He's all alone there." It truly is a sad sight. Scary, little, or not so little, Paul Lahote, seated by himself at an empty table. Occasionally, he looks up to shoot glares at the kids around him. It's a bit amusing.

"If you say so," Jared shrugs, standing up. He moves across the cafeteria and I see Paul's eyes snap to Jared's so fast, it's a bit incredible. He narrows them. They communicate something silently before they start talking. I wish I could hear.

"I wish I could hear," Linda whines, turned in her seat, trying to peer at them. "What I wouldn't give to be able to read lips right now."

"Linda, _stop_, you're making a fool out of yourself," Mary says airily, but I see her dart a few glances as well. Chris just reads her notes, not even watching at all.

Paul wears a strange expression as Jared speaks to him. He looks at me once. His lip curls slightly.

Jared says something, looking firm and threatening and then turns around. Paul sneers at his back before standing and lifting his tray with him. My heart gallops. Paul looks a bit scarier when he's standing at his full height.

Jared reaches us and smiles at me gently, but a little strained. "He'll be here." I beam at him.

Paul slouches over, throwing his tray onto the table once he's near enough. The girls and I jump. Jared glares at him as he drops into a seat between Linda and Mary. Mary looks as though she might piss her pants. She _hates_ scary dudes.

Paul glares around at all of us before stuffing a slice of pizza in his mouth. We all look away at once.

"So, this History homework," I begin, turning to Jared. Linda and Mary begin a conversation while Chris continues reading from her Physics notes. "Was it hard?"

"Nah, it was ok," Jared answers decisively, peeling his orange and stuffing it into his mouth whole. I watch, amazed. "I finished it in an hour."

"Ah, great," I say gloomily. "Fuck it, then."

There's a choking noise. I turn to see Paul cackling into his soda.

"The mouse _cusses_?" he asks Jared, eyes flashing wickedly.

Everything happens extremely fast.

Jared stands up, very abruptly, some of his food flying in different directions, looking beyond furious. "Get up," he says to Paul in a quiet, threatening voice. Paul sneers, but does so. Jared grabs him by the collar and drags him out of the cafeteria, both of them trembling violently.

We watch this happen, mouths open. Chris flips a page of her Physics notes idly, sighing.

"What's the worst type of Kim?" she asks without looking up, as though she's reminding us.

"Nice Kim," Linda says grimly, flicking an orange peel off her blouse. "Nice Kim is _definitely_ the worst."

* * *

I lounge on the sofa, flipping through channels on our slightly ancient television.

Clothed in a pair of plaid pajama pants and a ratty Band T-shirt, I stare gloomily at the flickering figures on the screen. Ugh. _Boring_.

Baseball game. Entertainment TV. Christian preaching show. I grunt in irritation.

I flip to the news and settle back into the cushions. It's Seattle news; since nothing ever fucking happens in La Push.

Jared hadn't made it to History after the lunch debacle. Paul. I sigh. That kid needs to stop being a nightmare.

"No, not the news, Kim!" Kevin yells as he bounds into the room. I roll my eyes and flip the channel to some weird kid's show. We settle down to watch, taking small bites from the cinnamon bread I had baked for dinner. It's just us tonight, since Mom is at work.

"Kim," Kevin starts, looking up at me from under mile-long lashes. Something we both share and got from our father. "When is mom coming home?"

I sigh. "Sometime after you've gone to bed," I say, running my fingers through Kevin's short hair.

"Can you pick me up from school tomorrow? And can Jared come too?"

My eyes widen. "You want Jared to come?" I ask him, peering at his face.

"Yeah, I like him." I bite back a smile. Kids are so wonderfully simple.

I curve my arms around his torso and press a kiss to the top of his head. My eyes water slightly. Kevin deserves more than me, his quiet and weird older sister. He deserves his dad and mom and siblings who can teach him to be popular and charming. I don't know anything of that sort.

"Do you hate me, Kev?" I ask quietly, mouth pressed against his thick black hair, something I didn't inherit. Mine is thin, like our father's.

"I love you the most, Kimmie," Kevin says sweetly and I smile into his hair. "And I think Jared does too."

My heart stops.

"You should date him," Kevin adds.

I recover, blinking and chuckling, a little nervously. "Jared, Jared, Jared; that's all you ever talk about. Maybe _you_ should date him," I say playfully, pressing my nose to his temple.

"I'm serious, Kim," he says in his 'serious' voice.

"And why do you think that?" I ask defiantly, my heart beating double time.

"Because he looks at you the way Mom looks at pictures of Dad," Kevin says matter-of-factly.

I remain quiet at that.

* * *

Long after Kevin retreats to bed, I sit in my room, my turntable playing the faint tunes from my new _Smiths_ album.

"_Life is very long, when you're lonely. Life is very long, when you're lonely_," sings my record player smoothly.

I lounge on my bed, my hair flowing down over one shoulder, scribbling in my journal thoughtfully. I write words. Feelings. Imagery.

A sharp rap on my window makes me look up.

My jaw drops.

"Jared?" I whisper-yell, slamming my diary shut and scrambling to my knees. What the hell is he doing here? At my window?!

I jump off the bed, scurrying to the window. I pull it open and allow the huge boy entrance, watching as he squeezes himself through, throwing a sheepish smile in my direction.

It's around this time that someone punches me in the gut.

Or if they didn't, they might as well have.

Jared is_ shirtless_.

Jared has...really really nice abs. Like, really nice. Like- abs that should be oiled and framed and placed in a catalog advertising wet dreams.

"Um," I try, as Jared looks around my room with unbridled fascination, eyes lingering on photos and my shelf of records. He breaks into a smile wider than the sky when he sees my placement of his painting, on the wall across from my bed, where the moonlight from the window hits it just perfectly. He is unaware of my creepy perving. I eye his chest greedily. Why is he only wearing a pair of cargo shorts in this cold? And how did he get up here?! It's a two-story house! "What are you doing here? And why the hell are you shirtless?"

"What?" he asks, pulling his eyes away from a photo of Kevin and I at First Beach two years back. "Oh. Uh, yeah, sorry. I... lost it."

"You...lost it," I repeat skeptically.

"Yep," Jared nods. He takes a step back and his muscles ripple deliciously. Jesus _Fuck_. "You don't mind, do you? I can run home and throw something on..."

_For the sake of mankind and women everywhere, Jared, please do not throw something on. Please, walk around shirtless...for the rest of your life._

"It's cool..." I pause and Jared watches me carefully. "Actually, fuck that. What gym do you go to and can I get a membership _forever_?"

There's a pause and a slow smile builds on his face, ending with a bark of high-pitched laughter. "Actually, I was born with these puppies." He smirks at that, like he's enjoying some sort of private joke, and runs a hand down his chest, over the bulging muscles. _Nyergh_.

"Yeah, that's not weird at all," I say sarcastically, imagining a baby with an eight-pack. "But for the sake of not being constantly distracted by your half-nakedness, I'm going to get you a shirt." I retreat to my closet, hearing his laughter, returning with a pale blue button down, something I often wear to sleep.

Jared accepts it, warily. "Who's is this?" he asks quietly, and I don't miss the clenching of the material in his fist, or the undertone of hurt.

"My dad's," I tell him, simply, taking a seat on my desk chair to watch him change. _Drool_.

He relaxes, but pauses in the effort of stuffing one bulging arm into the sleeve of the shirt and gives me a look. "Kim...about that..."

I sigh, looking away. "You want to hear about him."

"You don't need to-I don't mean to pry-" he says hastily, but I shake my head.

"No, it's fine. There's not much to tell, really." Jared finishes buttoning up the shirt, which hugs his torso beautifully, might I add, and takes a seat on the edge of my bed. It groans underneath him. I reel with shock as it hits me that Jared Cameron is sitting in my much too small for his huge body room. After climbing through my window.

Stranger things have happened. I think.

"My dad was...one of those geniuses. The ones who you'd hear about on the news after they were awarded for 'Extraordinary Contributions to the Field of Blah-Blah'. My dad's specialty was math."

"That's why you're so amazing at math," Jared guesses and I flush.

"Well, thanks for that. But, yeah, I guess. Anyway, he could've been something really great. Long story short, he met my mom, got her knocked up and had to kick his dreams of being something to the back-burner." Jared grimaces slightly.

"Yeah. But even if he 'stuck around' he never actually _did_. He never really paid any attention to us as a family...he wasn't there for a lot of my birthdays, a lot of my accomplishments. First Jazz and Ballet recital? Nada. First Science Fair Tournament? Nope... Back then, as a kid, it really hurt, mostly because I looked up to him- we were similar, quiet, math geeks, and people never failed to remind me of this- and yet, I had never actually _witnessed_ it first-hand. I wouldn't know if we were similar- I barely saw him." I take a deep breath, focusing my eyes on Jared's hands which are clasped together, his elbows on his knees.

"The point is, he resented me for being born at the wrong time and he was constantly calling me a disappointment and a mistake even when I worked my ass off to excel in all areas that I was put in, just to prove him wrong or even get his affection and attention." Jared looks utterly horrified and stunned at this and I shoot him a small smile.

"The only time he ever attended anything was my Math Tournament in fifth grade." I look up at Jared, who suddenly looks a bit mournful. "It was the happiest moment of my life, to see him cheering for me." I smile bitterly.

"And then he died. End of story." I itch at my knee. "I'm just sad he isn't around to see Kevin. He's a good kid. Deserves more attention."

The low sounds of my _Smiths_ album plays in the background as I finish.

"_To die by your side is such a heavenly way to die..._" the record player croons.

We're quiet. Finally, Jared takes my smaller hand within his large, warm ones and speaks.

"You're not a disappointment. You're definitely not a mistake. You're the most incredible person I've ever met," he says quietly, truthfully.

I blush. "You're too nice... But yeah, my mom never fails to remind me that I'm not."

He squeezes my hand, sweetly. "And I'll be here to do the same, always."

_Always._

Such a profound word for a popular jock.

"And on that depressing note," Jared continues. "I think we should talk about something less dreadful, what do you say?"

I laugh. Jared knows how to turn a sad, morose conversation around completely, a talent I lack, and I _love_ it. "Yes, please."

"Twenty questions?" Jared suggests cheerfully and I make a face.

"Lame," I complain. "But if that's what we're doing, I get to start." He grins. "Ok... First book you ever read."

He looks surprised but quickly recovers. "_The Very Hungry Caterpillar_."

I frown. "Damn it. I should have said chapter book. As in, novel."

Jared smirks. "But then I wouldn't have an answer." I laugh appreciatively. "Er... First record you ever bought."

"Ooh," I ponder. "I used to have a _massive_ girl crush on _Janis Joplin_ back in the ninth grade. I bought _Cheap Thrills_ when I went on a trip with my mom to Seattle and I've been a vinyl girl ever since." I sigh. "Um... Oh. Here's one; first crush you ever had."

Jared blushes at that. "Uh...a camp counselor when I was six. I chased her around like a puppy all summer, but she never gave me the time of day." He shakes his head as I chuckle, irrationally jealous of this random counselor. "Same question." His eyes are suddenly extremely intense in the dim light of my room.

"Oh. Embry Call." I blush heavily as Jared narrows his aforementioned eyes.

"Seriously?" he asks, sounding a little irritated.

"Don't hate," I warn. "I was seven, and he seemed _divine_ at the time. Always so sweet when others weren't. Went out of his way to talk to me..." He looks upset and ashamed at that and I roll my eyes. "My turn. Favorite color?"

"Really?" he asks, skeptical. I shrug, smiling. It's an age-old question, but I'd like to know the answer. "Fine. White."

I snort. "Kind of girly, that."

"Play nice," he replies, grinning handsomely. "Same question," he says, sounding interested.

"Yellow," I say, releasing a breath simultaneously so that my answer sounds a little whimsy.

"Yellow?" he asks with raised brows.

"Yellow."

"Like urine?"

"Hey!" I bark as Jared dissolves into snickers. I restrain my own laughter. "Yellow isn't _urine_. It's so much more- it's-it's-" I take a deep breath. "It's sunshine and melted butter... and sunflowers... and lemon cake, and that warm glow of joy that you feel in your heart- it's happiness incarnate," I tell him defiantly. His chuckles have subsided to nothing and he's staring at me with something akin to awe.

It's that look again...that _look_...

"Stop looking at me like that," I tell him, laughing breathily, covering half my blushing face with one hand.

His brows furrow innocently. "Like what?"

"Like...Like..." I try to find my words, dropping my hand into my lap in the process. "Like...I'm the color yellow."

His eyes are molten orbs of honey and something in his expression makes me still. "You are to me."

I catch my breath. I tear my eyes away from his and swallow harshly, my face burning.

I am to him.

_I am to him?_

"You can't say things like that," I tell him, slowly.

"Why not?" he rumbles, his voice just as hushed, as though we're sharing secrets.

"Because...because it'll drive me insane," I admit, raising my eyes back to meet his.

He looks, simply put, _elated_.

"Good," he replies, beaming, voice a low baritone. I narrow my eyes at him. "I shouldn't have to suffer alone."

My eyes widen at _that_.

"God, Kim," he breathes, running his hands over his face before dropping them to his lap. "You have to know...I can't hide...You drive me fucking _crazy_."

I'm frozen to my seat. My fingers twitch in my lap, my heart beat galloping. There's something about this moment that seems..._momentous_.

"I can't stop thinking about you," he admits, and why does it seem as though I'm much much too close to Jared, my knees brushing his, making my stomach flip-flop? "You're the most amazing thing in my life."

I'm breathing heavily. He's so _close_. He's giving me this look that should be illegal; this come-hither look that looks absolutely sinful against Jared's handsome features. I can't stand it. Our faces are so close together, his strong jawline entrancing me for unknown reasons, his breathing growing ragged as the seconds pass. His words are so beautiful, so simple, that it makes me weak at the knees.

I'm suffocated and yet, for the first time, I feel like I'm _breathing._

"Kim," he groans softly, and just that one word, my name, sends my stomach turning, and I've _never_ heard my name sound so beautiful, like a song, and I've _never_ felt so desired, so powerful. His forehead rests against mine, his eyes half-lidded with desire, and his lips are just...just inches away. My hands slide up to rest on the upper part of his biceps and he shudders at the contact, trembling beneath my fingertips. "_Please_," he whispers brokenly.

The churning in my stomach is intensifying, the beating of my heart increasing with every breath I take, and Jared smells so good, feels so good, and probably tastes so good-

I sigh shakily as his warm lips brush against my cheek, trailing down the side of my face like a whisper, nervous energy building up within me, and I feel as though I'm drowning in a fire that hasn't even begun to consume me. Just...a little...closer...

My eyes are fluttering shut of their own accord, and there's no way I can stop this, not when I've wondered what it might be like for _so long_ and-

Wait.

_What?_

I open my eyes and shove him away. He's firm beneath my hands but allows himself to be pushed, in fact, moving further away, reluctantly, when he sees me resisting.

"We- what are we doing?" I more or less shriek.

He swallows violently, looking as though he's had the wind knocked out of him. "I-I'm sorry, I just-"

I'm shaking my head. "No- No- _I'm_ sorry. I don't- we can't-" I place my face in my hands and breathe in deeply. "_Fuck_."

I can feel his hands hovering over me, almost as if he isn't sure whether to touch me or not. I look up at him.

His expression is a confusing medley of many emotions. They play across his features before finally ending in agony. "Kim," he whispers.

I duck my head. I don't want to hear it. It's too fast, too soon, too intense. It's too much.

"Kim, look at me, _please_."

Slowly, I lift my gaze.

He's looking at me as though he's never seen a girl before in his life. Like the world could fade away at this moment and he wouldn't even know it because I'm here. My lower lip trembles.

He catches the movement and his eyes grow sorrowful.

"I need you," he says in a low voice, pleading.

"No, you don't," I say immediately. He starts to argue, but I cut him off. "You don't need me. You- you _want_ me because I'm strange-weird-different from the other girls you've dated," I hypothesize shrewdly, thinking of Alison Menota. "Or because you think it'd be funny to try on a shy girl for once. You don't need me."

Jared looks thunderstruck. "Kim..." I interrupt him.

"You're not a...a fucking storybook hero. You're not just going to suddenly notice me and _need_ me." My voice is rising with every word I say. I stand up, incensed, hands shaking. "You don't need me and you're completely delusional if you think you do- you're a teenage boy, for fuck's sake- _act like one_."

I glare at him and his expression of utter shock. He stands as well, slowly, so that my gaze climbs upwards as he rises, staying connected with his fucking beautiful, blazing eyes.

He's silent. I'm silent. There is only the sounds of our breathing, somehow in sync.

"I'm not trying to play the hero," he says, finally, his voice heavy. "I'm not a hero, I'm not a poet, but- but," and his voice shakes at that. He clenches one fist at his side while the other tugs frustratedly at his hair. "I'm also not a liar." His eyes are trained on me. "Every word that comes out of this mouth, however ineloquent...is the truth." His hand drops to his side and he looks at me as though he is willing me to believe it.

I want to believe it. I'd like to believe it. "Then say something that I can actually believe, Jared," I whisper.

He stiffens. He opens his mouth. Closes it.

A few seconds tick by.

I nod, sadly. "I see."

A beat.

"I want to give you the world," he bursts out and I look up. His expression is fierce. "I want to give you everything."

I purse my lips and frustration causes me to spit out my next words. "You're just a boy, Jared," I say. "How could you possibly give me everything?"

His expression crumbles to the dust and I've never seen such a devastated expression on anyone before; he looks as though I've just grabbed his carefully crafted dreams out of his hands and spit on them and trampled my feet over them. I'm completely taken aback by this change.

Slowly, his body builds up to a slight tremor, a vibration, his fists shaking, so fast, he practically blurs before my eyes. I gasp.

"I-I have to go-" he rasps, striding to the window and practically throwing himself out.

I stand in place. Slowly, I take a seat on my bed and curl my knees into my chest. My room feels cold, as do I.

_The Smiths_ plays on.

"_How can they look into my eyes and still they don't believe me? How can they hear me say those words, still they don't believe me?_"

I can pretend the tears that sting my eyes aren't over the boy who wants to give me the world.


	11. Chapter 11

It's Wednesday.

Jared isn't here.

I cast a slightly anxious look to the desk besides mine in History and then smile sardonically. Jared and I have switched places this time, although I sort of doubt he's going to come running in late and I sort of doubt I have the strength to knock a desktop off it's legs.

I guffaw quietly as I recall the image to my mind of the occurrence that happened just two weeks ago (two weeks!) and Alison Menota, a few desks away, shoots me a slightly dirty look. I quiet immediately, feeling a bit sad.

He wants to give me the _world_.

How can I accept the world? What would I do with it? I'm just a girl; I don't need the world. I need...I need...

I cast my eyes to his desk once more.

Jared.

I need Jared.

* * *

"Who wants lemon?"

"Definitely me," I grunt, holding out my plate as Linda slides a slice of lemony goodness onto its surface.

Mary takes a bite of her own german chocolate cake and frowns. "What's with the Grumpy Kim?"

I sigh. The four of us are piled into a booth at the Forks diner, something of a change in scenery, and we're snacking on after-school cake. It's a bit of a tradition to have a mid-week cake party if our week's going a bit miserably. The girls had sensed it in me, apparently, and dragged me out for a bit before I have to pick up Kev from school.

I take a bite of cake and glare at the table. "I'm not grumpy. I'm practically brimming with happiness."

"And how are things on Planet You-Wish?"

I stare. "And how are things on Planet-that was the worst joke ever?"

"Touche," Chris nods as Mary rolls her eyes. "But, really, what's with the somber face?"

"Do I need a reason?" I grumble. "Life sucks."

The girls stare at me. "That's definitely a change from the usual tune you're singing," Linda notices. "Ms. Sunshine and Daisies."

I roll my eyes. "Actually, I hate the world. And people. I hate people."

Linda barks out a laugh. "That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. With a bit of effort, you're someone who likes just about everyone."

I look away.

"This wouldn't have to do with Jared, would it?"

I turn my face over sharply to Chris, who raises a brow. "Why would it have to do with him?" I ask slowly.

"Oh, I dunno. Because you _like_ him?"

Mary chokes on her cake and Linda slaps a hand to her back.

"_What_? Kim? You like Jared?"

"You guys are idiots for not noticing," Chris sneers. She turns to me as I blush furiously. "Is that why you're upset?"

"No," I say petulantly. "And I don't...I don't like him," but my voice fades and I...

Suddenly, I hesitate. Because I know what telling a lie feels like. It feels like this.

I bite my lip.

"Wait, wait, wait," Linda begins. "But...you've always said that you're smarter than that...that you wouldn't..."

Yes. I had said that. I had always believed myself to be smart enough to not allow a childish infatuation to take over my emotions. I had made sure that I had safely tucked away my heart and had fell into the crush without a single shred of emotional vulnerability. I know I had said that.

But this...this is so different. Jared is someone else to me now. He's not my crush, my obsession, whatever you want to call it. He's someone I've gotten to know, someone who means something to me, someone who's sweet and charming and wonderful and very very real.

For whatever reason, he had spoken to me. And while I had been upset, confused, and frankly, irritated about it before, now I'm happy. I'm happy that this random act of speaking to me which seemed to have struck Jared's fancy, happened. I'm happy that Jared woke up one day and randomly decided to speak to the quiet girl next to him. Because...

Because...

I blink away my thoughts to see my friends watching. I smile humorlessly.

"Maybe I'm a bit stupider than I thought."

* * *

"Wait, wait," Chris tugs me back by my shirt collar as I make to move towards Mary's car, in which the aforementioned girl is planning to drop us back in La Push. "Something happened, didn't it?"

I stare at her blankly. Freaking best friends...how the_ hell_ do they _know_?

I look away, shake some strands of hair out of my face. "Nothing. Nothing happened."

There's a pause. "Ah." I look up because her voice sounds absurdly knowing. "You mean you stopped it from happening?"

I gape at her.

She shakes her head, a smile curling at her lips. "I'm not blind, Kim," she says dryly, but I have no idea what she means by that. "And what was all that hoop-lah about being happy with everything in your life on your porch, then? Just words?"

I crinkle my brows because, what does that have to do with this? She understands the nature of my gaze. She clarifies.

"Kim...he likes you. I'm not saying that as a sympathetic friend or as someone trying to make you feel better. I'm dead fucking serious."

I swallow roughly. "I don't know..."

She smiled bitterly. "What's stopping you? Your low self-esteem?" I look up at her, shocked. "Don't argue with me, Kim. It's ridiculous how you see such a warped image of yourself."

God...is she right? I'm not protecting my heart...am I protecting my pride? Do I really think Jared's out to get me or am I just completely confused by how someone like him could ever like...me?

"Stop being smart," she says as she saunters to Mary's car where Linda waves us over wildly. "Be stupid for once."

* * *

"Is he coming, is Jared coming?" are the first words that leave Kevin's mouth as I pick him up from his elementary school.

I sigh. "Not today, Kevin," I tell him wearily.

"What?" Kevin asks, looking heartbroken. I'm feeling heartbroken, too. "Why not?"

I clasp Kevin's hand in my own and pull him out of the throng of short students, rushing to greet their parents. "He's... a little busy, that's all."

The walk home is relatively peaceful, occasionally peppered with Kevin's questions or his detailed monologues of what went down at school that morning. I listen enthusiastically, always the avid listener of Kevin's hilarious tales.

"...and then-and then-" Kevin struggles to get out through his laughter. I'm restraining my own laughter, more at Kevin's expense than the actual joke he's telling me. "-he fell straight on his _butt_!" He bursts into giggles and I stifle a snort.

"Kevin, you rude thing," I scold playfully. "Did you help him up?"

Kevin ceases his laughter almost immediately. "_No_. He's a meanie...he-he's so mean and he tries to put sticky glue in my hair all the time..."

I frown. "But Kevin, don't you think you should be nice to him, regardless?"

Kevin shakes his head. "No way, Jose. I wouldn't help him, ever."

I smile gently down at my sweet, naive, little brother. "You should treat people the way you want to be treated."

Kevin looks up at me, innocently, but at the same time with too much wisdom for a seven- almost eight- year old. "Is that why you ignore people, Kimmie? So they'll ignore you too?"

My smile fades at that.

"Hey, what's that?" Kevin yells suddenly, pulling me to a stop. I look around, distracted. "Did you see it?"

"What?" I question. "What was it, Kev?"

"There was a...a dog or something. Something big and brown and furry- over there!" He points his finger in _that direction_ and I feel my blood freeze as I follow the path of his outstretched arm.

Nothing there.

"It was there, I swear," Kevin says, sounding frustrated. "Kim, it was there."

"I believe you, little man," I say, pushing his face into my stomach, so that he doesn't have to see my fear, and running a hand through his dark locks, staring in the direction he had pointed. And I do. Believe him, that is. "I believe you," I repeat, voice low.

I pretend to stage a race on the way home, just so we can get to the safety of our house faster.

_There are a lot of dangerous things out there, Kim,_ I remember Jared saying, as I jog alongside Kevin, slowing for his benefit, Jared's words ringing in my ears faintly.

A lot of dangerous things out there.

Protectors of the reservation.

Dangerous. Protectors. My heart beat picks up as I realize...

What Jared is doing...might not be _safe_.

I can't shake the feeling of worry, even as I climb into bed at night and a low howl permeates the night, startling me from my nervous daze.

_Jared_, I think as the howl fades away and the crickets resume their chirping.

_I hope you're safe._

* * *

I skirt my feet against the dirty school floor. My head is bent low, my hands in my jean's pockets.

Jared isn't here. Again.

It's Thursday. Jared hadn't been in school yesterday. He isn't here today either. I sigh.

He isn't here. He isn't here. He isn't here.

_It's my fault._

...Right?

I really, really, really hope not.

My body connects with something large. My hands fall out of my pockets, reflexively searching for something to balance myself against. My hand connects with hot flesh.

I jerk my head up and my hand away.

_Jared?!_

It's not. It's another tall boy, lean and handsome, with the same sort of choppy dark hair and rounded muscles that Jared had acquired. There's a cute little dimple in his chin.

"_Embry_?" I ask, incredulous.

He looks miserable, frankly. His dark, tired eyes, his hunched slouch, everything screams misery. He also looks like he sat at home and inhaled steroids over the past few days.

Steroids…

His eyes widen in recognition and he looks uncomfortable. "Oh. Hey, Kim…"

I blink up at him. "Yeah, hey. You look…different."

Embry shuffles his feet, his hands in his pockets. "Um…yes."

Everything seems really awkward.

"Um…ok, well-" I start. Embry looks past me, down the hall, and his eyes widen.

"Kim, I have to go. I'll see you later, ok?" he says hastily, turning away before I can reply. I watch his back as he walks swiftly away, his strides powerful.

"…ok, bye," I call awkwardly to his retreating form. There's the sound of jogging footsteps behind me and I turn to see Jacob Black and Quil Ateara bounding into view.

"That motherfucker keeps getting away," Jacob growls, panting, as he comes to a stop next to me. He bends, hands on knees, his lean form breathing heavily, his long hair forming a curtain between us until he pushes it behind an ear. I stare at him.

He keeps _getting away_? Jacob, Quil, and Embry are _best friends_. Like the freaking three musketeers of our school. Why would Embry be trying to get away?

"Hey, there, Kim," Quil says, feigning cheerfulness. We aren't really close or anything, but everyone sort of knows everyone on the reservation, at least in passing, so I've seen the two of them around. Plus, when I had a crush on Embry, I would find reasons just to be around him and Jacob and Quil fit into _that_ equation, so I've been around them a bit, in the past. Not as friends or anything, though.

"Yeah, hey. Do you know what's wrong with Embry?" I ask curiously, looking between them.

Jacob shakes his head darkly, shooting me a strange glance. "Shouldn't _you_? I've seen you hanging out with that Jared kid. Aren't you guys dating?"

I flush, ignoring that. "What does Jared have to do with this?"

Quil gestures down the hallway and I look. My mouth drops open. _Paul_ is talking in a low voice with Embry, looking both stern and irritated at the same time. He seems to be giving some sort of advice, and one of his hands is resting on Embry's shoulder. And Embry…is trembling violently, so fast, I can barely make out his shape.

_Jared. Jared does that too._

The. Fuck.

"What's wrong with him?" Quil asks, panicked, trying to move towards the shaking boy. Paul looks up, suddenly, and the glare he shoots all three of us stops us cold. Embry doesn't even acknowledge his two best friends.

There's a silence. "C'mon, Quil," Jacob finally mutters, sounding disgusted. Then, to me, "See you later, Kim."

"Yeah, see you," I reply faintly as they trudge away, looking downtrodden. I direct my gaze back down the hallway but the two boys, who could suddenly pass for brothers, are gone.

So fucking weird.

* * *

The lunch period is solemn. I stab at my spaghetti ungratefully, my elbow resting on the table, holding up my head.

"What's gotten into everyone today?" Linda asks, annoyed.

"I failed my English test," Chris mutters, upset.

I lift my head off my fist as an idea occurs to me. Paul. Paul would know where Jared is.

"I ruined my art midterm by spilling paint on it," Mary says, but I'm not listening anymore, my eyes scanning the cafeteria for the familiar angry figure.

_Ah_. Bingo. He sits at a table in the corner, gnawing on a sandwich as though it might disappear if he doesn't inhale it as fast as possible.

Paul will know where Jared is.

"Kim?"

If I could just go up to him, though I loathe the idea, and just ask if Jared is ok... I don't even need to know details. Just...if he's healthy. Normal. _Safe_.

"_Kim?_"

Maybe I could ask about Embry too. I notice that the boy isn't in the cafeteria and I wonder at that. Half of me had expected him to be sitting with Paul today. Anyway, I'll just go up to him, and subtly interrogate him on Jared's whereabouts-

"KIM!" I jump and turn my face. All three of my friends are watching me with befuddled expressions.

I blink. "Er, yes?"

Linda stares at me. "Why are you creeping on Paul?"

"I'm not. Hey, I'll be right back, guys..." I get up, ignoring the incredulous looks exchanged between my friends, walking toward where Paul sits, determination in my strides. He's sucking down his soda with a great sort of concentration, before he sets it down and throws the last bit of his sandwich, a large piece, mind you, into his mouth. I shudder. _Scary kid_.

"Paul?" I ask, hesitant. He looks up when I'm about a few feet away.

His eyes narrow, his cheeks bulging. "Oh. It's you," he comments grumpily around a mouthful of sandwich.

I sigh. "Um, yeah. I was just wondering..."

"You want to know about Jared..." he hypothesizes shrewdly, examining me from under dark, furrowed brows. He leans back in his seat, watching me.

I shift, uncomfortable. "Guilty. Is he ok?"

Paul snorts. "He's spectacular." There's a pause. "Is that it?"

_Stop being rude, jackass_, I want to scream, but instead I shake my head. "Can you tell him something, please? From me?"

Paul raises a brow but says nothing. I take that as assent. I fidget, awkward. "Um...just tell him that...The world...everything...it's overrated."

Paul gives me a look that makes me feel like a science experiment. I can't tell if he understands my convoluted message or not. He breaks into a smirk. "Fine. I'll pass it along."

I sigh, relieved. "Right, thanks." I begin to turn away.

"I'm sorry, by the way," he drawls lazily. I stop, turning to face him, confused. He looks bored. "About calling you a mouse." His eyes dance wickedly and I kind of want to punch him. And I'm not a terribly violent girl.

"Did Jared tell you to say that?" I ask sardonically.

Paul grins, suddenly, looking very amused. "And if he did?"

I shake my head, already moving away. "Then, don't bother."

"I'll remember that," he calls out to my retreating form.

* * *

Life seems so much more boring without Jared around, I realize somberly as I grocery shop.

I'm in the provisions section, feeling extremely dulled out. I need Jared's tactless and sometimes cruel humor. I need his girly laugh and his lame jokes. I need his boyish grin and that expression that crosses his face when he's watching me and thinks I'm not looking.

I frown as I hold up the green pepper and red pepper, debating between the two. Decisions, decisions...

My eyes drift over to the side. Yellow pepper.

_Yellow._

I smile and pick it up. I guess we're having yellow pepper in our pasta tonight. If I can successfully make it, anyway, terrible cook that I am.

My hand collides with someone else's as I reach for the baggie to put the vegetable in. "Oh, crap, I'm sorry," I say apologetically, pulling my hand away.

"That's ok," a musical voice retorts and I look up. Beautiful features, beautiful smile, beautiful voice...lines marring one side of her face. Emily Young stares back at me. Except I'm not the only one coming to a realization. She's staring at me quizzically.

"You..." she starts. "What's your name?"

I bite my lip. "Oh. It's Kim," I say, blushing slightly. I try not to stare at the scars on her face, directing my gaze down to my hands before slowly looking up at her once more.

Realization dawns on her features immediately and a warm smile encompasses half of her face. I watch this, curious and confused.

"Oh, of course," she gushes, holding her hand out. I take it within my own, marveling at her tiny, slender fingers, that, upon closer notice, have paint stains on them. I stifle a smile, but then my mood dampens immediately. _Jared_. "It's nice to meet you," she continues. "Jared has told me all- _a lot_ about you."

I don't miss her slip.

"Nice to meet you too," I say bashfully. "All good things, I hope."

She beams at me. "All great things," she reassures me. She examines my face for a moment. "He's quite taken with you, I believe."

I shift, awkwardly, extremely conscious of the blush rising to my cheeks. "He probably won't like you saying that," I mutter, cheeks hot.

"Oh, I'm not scared of him," Emily says cheerfully, a tinkling laugh rising out of her throat. I laugh too, a bit hysterical. I guess I wouldn't be scared either if I had to hang around huge boys like Sam, Paul, Jared, and I guess, Embry, now, in my spare time.

Although, I'm not scared of Jared. At all. He's too much of a gentle giant. A handsome gentle giant. I blush again. "Um, how's he doing? He hasn't been in school for a while..."

Emily watches me with a happy expression. "He's just fine. He's been helping Sam out with some issues on the reservation; you know, my fiancee." She holds up her hand where a lovely engagement ring sparkles and I nod.

"Er, right. They're protectors- or something like that..." I trail off uncertainly.

"Something like that," Emily agrees. There's a pause. "Did you want to stop by the house? I should hurry back, I have some muffins in the oven..."

"Oh," I say, surprised. "That's really sweet of you, but I actually need to make my brother his dinner." I hold up the yellow pepper, awkwardly, regretfully. "He gets cranky after a certain point if I don't feed him and _that_ could cause a lot of problems."

She laughs musically and this time I join in, less awkward. She puts me at ease, really.

"Alright, but you _must_ promise to stop by the house some day. Tell Jared to bring you." I tell her that I will. "I have a feeling I'll be seeing you around more often," she says with a certain smile that I flush at and we part ways after we say good-bye.

* * *

"Damnit," I curse, throwing my pencil down for the millionth time. I just cannot concentrate. At all.

I massage my temples wearily, wondering when it had gotten to this. When I had started to become so dependent on Jared's presence in my life.

Although, suffice to say, I've spent the majority of the last two weeks with him. Or, at least, even more time than I've spent with my _friends_.

I stay still as this thought washes over me. More than my friends. More than my friends whom I've known for so so long. More than my friends when I've only known Jared for..._two fucking weeks_.

In two weeks, Jared has completely twisted and turned and messed up my peaceful little world and now I'm just really really confused.

He...I don't know what he had approached me as. A friend? A study partner? Who knows?

But after last night...I can't deny...obviously, Jared wants me to be more. Or something.

I blush and bury my face in my hands. He wants more. Can I give him more?

Maybe he doesn't want more in the romantic sense? Maybe he wants a fuck buddy?

I shake my head immediately. No. No, Jared wouldn't do that. Wait...would he?

No.

Why am I doubting myself? Of course he wouldn't. He...he's trying so hard. For something. Something else. He might have approached me in a different dynamic if the 'fuck buddy' theory were true. Also, why would he want _me_ as a fuck buddy? The idea is laughable.

_But why would he want me as his...girlfriend?_

That's pretty damn laughable too.

As if possessed, I begin to laugh. I laugh and laugh and laugh about the absurdities that are now happening around me. I laugh that I can no longer call myself the owner of a relatively dull, invisible life.

I laugh because..._I like Jared_.

I stop laughing abruptly.

My eyes widen, my mouth drops open in shock, and I stand from my desk, legs trembling as I come to this revelation.

I like Jared.

_I want him to be more._

I want Jared Cameron, my ex-pseudo-obsession and current-real-obsession to be more.

I really _do_ like him.

I_ like _him_._

And that settles in my mind.

* * *

Jared's house looks different.

As I walk up the curving walkway towards his front door, I realize this. It looks different. Scarier. I think it might be because of...what I'm about to do.

The front door is a cherry red, similar to the furniture inside his house, as I know. It's a beautiful door. A little intimidating looking, taller than most doors, with a brass knob that curves outwards so that it looks like a pitcher's handle-

What the fuck am I doing. Why am I standing here admiring his fucking door. _Christ_.

Swallowing roughly and with all the trepidation of someone going to the gallows, I raise my fist.

And knock. Three times.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

There's no sound. Until, there is. The faintest pitter-pattering of small feet against the ground meets my ears. I await.

The door swings open.

"Kim!" Jessie says, smiling up at me. "H-Hi there!" She blushes and beams at the same time and looks positively _adorable_ doing it.

"Hi, Jess," I say with a small, bashful smile. "Um, is your brother at home?" Her face falls.

"No, he went out with... Paul... a while ago." She blushes so heavily, I grin. _Someone_ has a crush...on that freaky imbecile, so I have to question her taste. "I think they're running some errands for Sam..." She looks apologetic. "I'm sorry, though!"

I wave my hand. "Oh, no worries, I'll just...talk to him later. If you see him- tell him I stopped by?" She says that she will. "Alright. I'll see you. You take care, Jessie."

She waves at me giddily as I turn to leave, my heart sinking in my chest.

* * *

The walk home is quiet enough that it gives me the time to think. I sigh, running a hand over my face. When did everything get so fucked up?

How would things be different if I had just...let things happen on Monday night? If...we had kissed or...whatever...would we be dating? Would we...would we be in a relationship? Going out?

I snort. It sounds so ludicrous in my head. I raise my face to the sky where the sun hides behind a few clouds, on the verge of setting. I smirk. Jared and I. Pretty and plain.

_What happened to that?_

It had never felt like this, though, I think, as I rub my chest where my heart aches. It had never felt this way _before_. I had seen Jared as a fourteen year old girl and thought he was cute, funny and deceptively sweet and thought...wouldn't it be nice? Wouldn't it be nice to go out with a popular guy? A guy like Jared who seems just about perfect, when the reality of the situation is that he wouldn't give me the time of day?

My crush had fizzled into something mellow... It became a habit, something I didn't really care to break. Why would I? He'd never know. And someday, I'd be off to college and I'd leave all my fantasies behind.

But now. I swallow. The idea of leaving Jared behind is so unappealing I feel like puking.

Rays of warm orange-pink sunshine scatter over La Push. It's a nice day. I sigh and stick my hands into the pockets of my purple skirt.

"...don't care, dude. Stop fucking sulking, it's getting on my nerves."

"Fuck you," a surly voice replies. I look up.

Paul...and Jared.

Jared.

_Jared._

I extract my hands from my pockets as a stone the size of a volleyball drops into my stomach. "Jared," I whisper.

Somehow, he hears it. His head turns so fast, I'm surprised it doesn't snap right off his neck. His jaw drops.

"Oh great," Paul moans from beside him, turning his face to the sky. I scowl.

Jared turns to him slowly, hands clenched into fists, and he seems to tower over Paul, menacing. "Get. The. Fuck. Out."

Paul raises his hands in front of him, shoots me a smirk, and walks backwards before turning and racing into the woods that make up the other side of the road. I shake my head after him and turn- only to find Jared staring at me intensely. I blush.

"Um...hi," I mutter, self conscious.

"Hi," he says, hoarse. He coughs and takes a small step forward. "How... are you?"

Fuck fuck fuck fuck _why_ is it like this?! So fucking awkward. I debate turning around and just running away, but I realize, that right now, I must be brave.

"I'm...ok." I pause. I sigh, "Ok, no, I'm not. I stopped by your house just now, actually. I... want to speak with you."

He looks like he's swallowed a toad. "Oh..."

I bite my lip. "Where've you been?" I ask, wanting to hear it from him.

He ruffles his hair. "I was helping Sam out with some stuff...you know, for the rez." I nod.

"I saw Embry...is he a...protector too now?" I ask curiously.

"...yeah, he is," Jared says, sounding as if he has marbles under his tongue, the words slightly garbled. He swallows.

"Right," I say awkwardly. "Are you..._safe?_"

He looks at me queerly. He barks out a laugh. "Yeah. Sort of."

I raise my brows, my heartbeat increasing. "_Sort of?!_" I ask, panicked.

He blinks at my reaction. His eyes dart to my chest, where my heart is and he swallows, looking a little bewildered. "Um. We're fine." The 'sort of' hangs in the air again.

I wrap my fingers around my elbow, suddenly shy. "I was...I was really worried about you, you know."

His eyes widen. "You...you _were_?"

I nod, slow. "Really, really worried. So goddamn worried." I add, in case he doesn't get it.

A bit of an astonished smile creeps onto his lips.

I run my tongue over my teeth once and square my shoulders. "Look, Jared. I came to talk to you because...I wanted to apologize."

He awaits, standing very, very still, not a single muscle moving. He looks...strange. "You don't need to-"

"Yes, I do," I interrupt, because I do. "I'm always saying the stupidest things around you," I mutter, more to myself than the handsome boy before me and he lets out a short huff of laughter.

"You're honest," he disproves. "I like that you are," he adds, and while his face is earnest, his eyes are just a touch troubled.

I bite my lip, then release it. "Then I think it's best that I be honest with you now as well. Consistency, and all that."

He cringes, like I'm about to throw a fucking hammer in his face or something. "Ok," he whispers.

I take a deep breath. "I shouldn't have said what I said. And, unlike the last few times, I didn't mean it." I watch out of my periphery as his whole frame seizes up. "I didn't mean it at all. The past few...days...have been...really nice and...you're..." I swallow because the words coming out of my mouth are so stupid. I feel like crawling under a rock and rotting. I look up.

Jared looks _happy_. Fuck happy. He looks...so goddamn over the moon. "...I'm?" he urges, tender.

I swallow, feeling trapped, as though I'm in the spotlight. "I know you're not a liar. And I know you're...kind." His face softens. "And Jared...I was just really scared. That's why I said those things. I didn't understand why you would...want to give me the world," I finish awkwardly. He exhales, shaky.

"Kim...you don't understand...I _do_. I want to give you everything. You _are_ everything," he finishes, looking at me with an expression of the most unabashed adoration on his face that I have to blush and blush and blush.

He is so brave. He is so, so brave.

"I understand that I'm a teenage boy, and that the world is...not something I can offer," he says slowly, looking just about miserable and there is nothing I want more in this moment than to launch myself across the short distant between us and latch onto his lips. Like a motherfucking leech. He looks beautiful. More beautiful than ever. The setting sun illuminates his shiny hair and bounces off of his glassy eyes. "And I get it if you want nothing to do with me..."

I interrupt because...someone as brave as Jared, deserves bravery in return.

"Jared, no, I-I..." My knees are shaking. "I came to y-your house t-to-" My palms are sweating. "-to tell you that... _I like you_." His head shoots up with the most comical expression of shock. I flush hotly, screwing my eyes shut, before opening them again, feeling them sting with embarrassed tears. I continue, relentless. "I... don't want everything, Jared. I-I want _you_."

Silence.

I wait.

Silence.

Still that expression of shock. He looks like someone's whacked him over the head with a solid tree trunk.

_Dumbfounded, astonished, in awe._

Like how he first looked at me.

I bite my lip, feeling the fear creeping back with full force. My skin feels hot and clammy, my eyes are stinging. My hands are shaking at my sides and I know, any second now, I will most probably burst. If not tears, then into hysterics. "Um, yeah, that's all I wanted to say, so...I'll just...be going now."

Not making eye contact, I turn around and start power-walking away, my head bent low, a choked sob building up in my throat.

Maybe I had been wrong about the whole thing? Maybe he didn't like me at all? Maybe I'd just imagined some scenario in which he did? Maybe-

The sound of footsteps doesn't reach my ears, but they must have been there, because, suddenly, there is a warm grasp on my upper arm, and I am being whirled around. I gasp, surprised, coming face-to-face with Jared's handsome face.

"Kim," he says softly, and his voice, so...so hopeful. He's breathing heavily, but it doesn't seem to be from fatigue. Our noses are brushing, sensual and delicate, like fingertips on bare skin. His eyes are chocolate and honey and _fire_. His expression. God, I wish I could frame his expression and hang it on my ceiling, just above my bed, and stare at it every night.

He looks like he wants to _devour_ me.

"Stop me," he says, his voice low and husky, setting me aflame, his eyes molten. "Stop me if I'm completely misreading this."

And suddenly, I can't breathe.

_I'll never stop you_, I want to say.

Instead, I admit, softly, "Actually...I'm finding myself a little too emotionally available."

His expression morphs. _Ecstasy_. Pure ecstasy with hints of crushing relief. His joy is nearly palpable. "Kim..."

I interrupt. "I don't think we were ever meant to be friends, you and I," and I'm thinking about a history that involves invisible outsiders and popular insiders.

He begins to grin, wolfish and utterly...beautiful.

"Fuck friends," he growls and then _his lips are on mine his lips are on mine his lips are on mine_.


End file.
